Sacrifice your thoughts over into my possession

He gets his cash on, though he's in a ghetto zone
trying to come up, in relation, with the gold chrome

He never broke bread
pointed his pistol at the feds
he left people, coughing up, blood, in they death beds

His reaction was, swift, to cause war
drinking beer in front of the store
he hit a lick with the dice, then he scored

So

Tax free money, got uncle sam, thinking
hear he comes, what should I do
you better run

A hood survivor, positioned, as the top G
his first thought was money

So the critics, couldn't stop'em
he made your mind open up
to hardcore methods of the street legends

He said sacrifice your thoughts, over into my possession

Written By: Desia Scales (Alien Artform)