Your so bitter, like kitty litter.
I guess you're not gonna be happy til' it's for real. Four year old kids, doing drive-bys on Big Wheels.
Pushers don't pay taxes.
My name ain't Keith, so could you lease stop Sweatin' me.
There's no time for conversation dear, moan is all I want to hear.
Plenty poisoned minds of the people are ours. Slaves, from mental death.