by Joseph Wade
Feeling my life is going to crumble, as if I was the running back that just gave up the fumble.
I tumbled. But man I’m so HUMBLE. The city of rain like a FUCKING jungle.
It’s storming, you can hear the rumble.
But no fear, the end is near, dashing like a deer.
What do I see?? Violence and nonsense, niggas from different hoods trying to represent.
If I was the president, I would not be hesitant to stop the negative one way or another.
If we keep our heads up and get along we could go much further.
Praying for my mother, missing my brother.
So many struggles so I’m steady trying to hustle.
Chopping it up with my nigga B-SAV, he always sayin ,“what’s good JD, why you sound so SAD?”
I reply, “I’m scared for my Dad, he got heart problems, he is always bothered.
He is stressed out, he says ‘Life is getting much harder’”
Can’t erase the pain like a permanent marker.
Striding for the finish line so I stay with the PEN to the PAD writing rhymes.
Can’t live life twice, feeling sick, face pale as rice.
On stage, thinking why I always wanted to rock the MIC.
R.I.P to my nigga Mike. When my music spreads people will dance and nod their heads
F.G.O.D TILL THE FUCKING END