Dear lord help me forget all my sins, one minute I think I'm good
The next thing would be my death
Hit up J. Chet let them fuckaz know we next
We coming straight for the neck
We running up for them checks
Grab the AK, reload it and let it bang
Call your bitch mayday, cause she go down on me everyday
Fuckin spitting twisted lyrics to calm all my senses
Fuck a label, and a handout bitch we independent
A cold day is always feelin the same
In the house of pain, wait for habits to drain
Never let up, I always get up
And running thru the problems I deal with may be the same for you