The duMaurier early morning had a choke effect on my lungs As i rose like the sun from its smoke Decided to write while i wrote and ash it out in my space Had an aggrivated start like usual Pen slided as it flossed across the sheet Didn't know what to write about until i just let my mind free you see for me its like morphean for the soul because yesterday was vague but thoughts were bold as i road in imagination to escape the cold feelin sublime but still thinking of my crime that was past down ta me the wikkid mind exposed over again like a picket sign these wikked lines in wikked times in every ryme skipping like an old LP when my shit unwinds sour like lemon lime thoughts of evil intent smashing beneath the pavement into hells kitchen there's no repent from this enslavement society lie'ta me, shit aint all good im in the hood and cant pay rent im hurtin for dollers! what the fukk is 50 cent? What the fukk is public perception? What the fukk is a mind with no sleep? Its what ma'fukkas dun did to me! What the fuck, and you blame guys like me? when i gun butt ya with tha heat on a fucken single rap sheet?