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.

I'd love to go back to when we played as kids, but things change. And that's the way it is.

All the Hennessy and weed can't hide, the pain i feel inside, its like I'm living just to die.

And I hope I'm forgiven for Thug Livin when I die.

Mama raised a hellraiser why cry, That's just life in the ghetto, do or die.

I'm not saying girls are perfect, because we all know that's not true. But why be unfaithful to her if she was true to you.

I put the pistol by my head, and say a prayer. I see visions of me dead, Lord are you there?