Institutionalized, I live my life a product made to crumble.

I'm used on every level. I have no friends. I have no resting place. I never sleep. I can never close my eyes. It's horrible.

Born through hard times, Ghetto child of mine. I wonder if you have to suffer for your father's crimes.

If you believe in God, believe in Death Row East.

I set goals, take control, drink out my own bottle, I make mistakes but learn from every one, And when it's said and done, I bet this brother be a better one, If I upset you don't stress, Never forget, that God isn't finished with me yet

If you walked by a street and you was walking a concrete and you saw a rose growing from concrete, even if it had messed up petals and it was a little to the side you would marvel at just seeing a rose grow through concrete. So way is it that when you see some ghetto kid grow out of the dirtiest circumstance and he can talk and he can sit across the room and make you cry, make you laugh, all you can talk about is my dirty rose, my dirty stems and how am leaning crooked to the side, u can't even see that I've come up from out of that.

Give me a paper and pen, so I can write about my life of sin. A couple of bottles of gin, in case I don't get in.