Where Hope Goes To Die

I shoot you out your body
Perform a seance with a fucking shotty
I wear a ski mask so that nobody identify me
Grimey and grizzily, throw you to the pitbulls like a frisbee
Then feed the pieces of you that they bring me
Baby, your arm, leg, leg, arm, and your head
Even God turned his back on you, holmie, you're dead
Just a fragment of your former possibilities and aspirations
A casualty in the civil war of a gangster nation
My generals pocket death to millions
The media spread lies and cash cheques for trillions
I organize crime, money and murder synchronize beyond time
I move mountain tops without trying
I move buildings like super villains
Throw penthouses of people and fist fuck porno movie bitches
Like Bang Brothers dot com, got money in my palm
No love, no smiles, ain't nothing funny, y'all
I come from where hope goes to die
Where dreams get crushed and the bullets fly
I come from where hope goes to die
La Coka Nostra till I die
Peckerwood b-boy in the white man's stance
Where I come from, son,
the wolves don't dance
They stand with their fists and talk shit like this
Y'all don't want drama, y'all don't want static
You fiend like crack addicts, comeback's automatic
Got a douce-douce in my boot holdin' five
Got a razor in the other one in case you survive
I rep the Gaza Strip, the hunger strike
Cousin, bite on your lip, do what you like
We ain't playin' no games, you ain't honky-honk
When the cats with the guns pop the trunks and dump
And the pistols thump and the bodies slump
Goin' for Jihad, can't wait to see God
A child of the city so my attitude's shitty
The livest type bomber out for pure drama
Period, comma, P.S. fuck your momma
I'm the white guy who gave the whole rap game a black eye
Fuck your bitch with a dick thicker than Shaq's thigh
You can't nod off, this is a crack high
Stab you in your fucking face with a jack knife
I love bitches who suck dick and half-dyke
I'm just sick, I'll beat your brain, doc, with a flashlight
A black mag lite, you other rappers fag fight
We don't battle, I have your family crawlin' up the bagpipes
And the preachers preach, pine box in the fucking facial features fixed
Whoops, I mean fixed, push don't mean shit
When a dope fiend lean on a custom green whip
Everlast, Ill Bill, Slaine, and D-Boy, Lethal, Left Cage
We b-boys who destroy on both coasts
Tote toasts and sold coke with gold ropes