Lost

I see you lost why you try look
In your eyes I see you lost
Callin' the source droppin' dimes if you
Talk it don't walk it
Get stuck in a trunk team is mean and
I'm a fiend bitch I gotta be walk

I see them lost like Pac in a
Trap I can't stack on all
Stones to walk beat this chalk with a chump
I pencil a lime around your
Spine and coke a dime
Calling my fam for a 'lil
Shine nigga get off
My dick like tricks up in
My face want a taste
Disgrace to the game so I restrain
It's quite simple man
We take stabs at these corns
And leave them leaking where they
Stand wishing they wasn't born
And I'm gone Loonie unleashed take a
Peek I need a son
To pass this shit on I tell
You before I'm the one
You done heard about dreamed about
So forth ja gave me these jewels
Before i see em get full course I'm lost
No loyalty government got em scared
No heart running around they just as feared
That's why I'm here the voice of
Millions is still clear to god would
Be allah wit his lit up in the air

Yo Respect, you're right fam I can't deny
I'm a lost soul world is a mess so I set
Up camp at the crossroads
To wage war on the skulls and crossbones
I'm drawing these lines and
They're gonna be
Harder to pass than gall stones
America's laws disorientated by
Bush's lies on
Foreign relations this ain't war
We invaded and stole
Oil and rations, destroyer of nations
It's poisonous
Snakes in the Bush organization and we
The people sit back spit raps we dumb
Blinded by the bling
And the finest blood diamond and
While you watching TV
Big brother watching and see me holding
My cock in three D (haha)
You got health issues 'cause
They spreading diseases
Drinking top shelf booze won't
Be getting you Jesus
So for me it's better to be lost
And wage war in the underground
Than be found down in the
Grave as a slain whore

Fuck the cartel, all I need is a classic
I paint brush the chaos, my hooks is drastic
The fiends is eating, the crooks is blasted
My cream's increasing, my books is plastic
And I'mma spend this money like
It's my last chance
To feed workers on point
Like it's my last dance
I'm from Philly we don't lean with it
Rock with it we cook, cut, bag
Straight to the block with it (money)
Yup, it ain't my fault this crack sells
That's the biggest scapegoat just
To keep blacks jailed
And we still make bills
That's out our pocket
Quarter mill big faces
And it's out of pocket
Gangsters don't rap they low key
When it's time to go beef
They clap your whole street
OG's that don't drink or smoke trees
But fucking with this game got me
Lost in my own streets