On the Run

ROYCE: Excuse me, big fella
CLERK: Hey, hey, how you doing?
ROYCE: How you doing, you got rooms available?
CLERK: Yeah, what you need? A one-bed, or two-bed?
ROYCE: Uh, one bedroom
CLERK: Okay. We just need you to fill this out right here, just a lil' information. You know, just in case. All right. Now, how would you be paying for this?
ROYCE: Cash
CLERK: Cash?
ROYCE: Yeah
CLERK: Okay. Aight, here are your keys, son. Uh, the elevators are that way, and your room is gonna be on the ninth floor
ROYCE: Aight, have a good night

Looking out my window, from my ninth floor hotel room
I remember that cold, cold, rainy night
Looking out my window

Feeling all alone on the run, I'm still holding onto my gun
Body on it from the previous evening, I found out I'm wanted
Niggas snitching is what the media screaming
I turn the channel on the TV, The First 48 on
Man, it ain't a loyal nigga on this TV nowhere
I cut the power off, disgusted
I'm contemplatin takin a shower to take all the gunpowder off
But what if they bust in, busting?
The nigga at the front desk act like he don't recognize me
But shiiiit, there's a reward for me, that nigga there hustling
I can't trust him, I gotta keep my eye on that window
Thinking about my kinfolk, wife and babies
I can't talk to them, life is crazy
Whoever thought it would come to this over rap nonsense?
Wrapped in the comfort of being attacked by my conscience

Looking out my window, from my ninth floor hotel room
I remember, that cold-cold rainy night
Looking out my window

I think I'ma write a letter to my children

In case, I don't make it
I'm up against time, but I won't face it
I'm thinking about my life, what it is now
And how one slug can change what it once was
I'm accepting the fact that I did that
I just want my wife back, I just want my kids back
I just want my niggas that don't snitch back
Cause real niggas know real niggas ain't with that
But what's the use of me being real? I'm fucked now
I'm seeing sirens out the window thinking "What now?"
Damn, am I to do?
Cause now that shit hit the fan, I suddenly ran out of crew
But fuck it, I'm in the shit, I'ma end the shit
No way for me to benefit though I'm innocent
I hear a knock on the door like, "Let's finish this!"

This is the Detroit police! We got the building surrounded. We know you're in there, asshole. Come out! We're gonna give you to the count of three. One, two,... three! Get the fucking gun! Drop it! Officer down! Officer down! Hold your fire! Hold your fire! Suspect down! I repeat: suspect down!

This life is about honor... respect... But more importantly, this life is about choices. You make 'em, and whether they turn out to be good ones or bad ones, you live with them. You die with them. Let's go back to how it all started...