This shit is this verse I wrote for this song called "Somebody Gotta Pay" me and my homie been workin on.......and these fuckin lyrics just DONT go wit the beats we got, and I think the sentence structure is all wrong. I'm hella not feelin it, but let me know what ya think, or where I got problems.......
Commited, so believe it's to the death, dispersin enemies with every single breath, 'til only 11-Blocc-18 is left. So fuck you locc, offendin me much too often, puttin guns to your brain, then spit in your coffin. Dont gotta resort to clips, but please dont tempt me, let the blood drip out your wrists, until your veins are empty. Creepin through White Center, laced ciggarette smokin, knowin if you enter, I'll rip this fuckin neighborhood open. Life or death is the choice, it aint that pressing, wound up stuck in the coreiner's office, fitted with a funeral dressing. Keepin it realistic, knowin I could get got, aint calimin invincible, hopin I wont get shot. So now I'm takin my final breath, as the shooters gettin nervous, didnt see him when he crept, my family and friends cried at the funeral service. Consequences got served, casket got lowered 6 feet under, got what I deserved, as the devil pulled my number. So pour out the OE and keep me as a memory, leavin behind 11-Blocc-18, all my friends, and my Hoody Mafia family.
Commited, so believe it's to the death, dispersin enemies with every single breath, 'til only 11-Blocc-18 is left. So fuck you locc, offendin me much too often, puttin guns to your brain, then spit in your coffin. Dont gotta resort to clips, but please dont tempt me, let the blood drip out your wrists, until your veins are empty. Creepin through White Center, laced ciggarette smokin, knowin if you enter, I'll rip this fuckin neighborhood open. Life or death is the choice, it aint that pressing, wound up stuck in the coreiner's office, fitted with a funeral dressing. Keepin it realistic, knowin I could get got, aint calimin invincible, hopin I wont get shot. So now I'm takin my final breath, as the shooters gettin nervous, didnt see him when he crept, my family and friends cried at the funeral service. Consequences got served, casket got lowered 6 feet under, got what I deserved, as the devil pulled my number. So pour out the OE and keep me as a memory, leavin behind 11-Blocc-18, all my friends, and my Hoody Mafia family.