I Put The Pistol By My Head,

I'm Tired Of Being A Nice Guy, I've Been Poor All My Life, But Don't Know Quite Why.

I Smoke Blunt To Take The Pain Out And If I Wasn't High I'd Probably Blow My Brains Out.

If You Believe In God, Believe In Death Row East.

Instead Of Of Being So Metaphorical With The Rhyme, I Was Encouraged To Go Straight At It And Hit It Dead On And Not Waste Time Trying To Cover Things.

Reality Is Wrong. Dreams Are For Real.