My artillery vomits death, infected with the SICCNESS
Ski mask rolls down my face as I kiss my crucifix
Death before Dishonor, this broblem I'm 'bout to fix
May the lord give me the strenght but also may he forgive me
I'm only doing dirt to the suckaz who tried to kill me.
The deed is done, Cap is peeled back as I hit the track.
Empty shells in my revolver, call it my problem solver.
In da wind with no trace, just another memory that I erased.
I tell myself thats it, no more missions, after this one I'm done.
I'm TIRED of sleeping one eye open, with a pillow UNDER my gun.
My gun, my strap, Mi pistola, muy FINA y divina.
Escribiendo estos versos, esperando mi propina.
And for the fallen ones,
I take a shot of tequila.
3-8-07 was the day you flew to heaven.
Gone but not forgeotten from these streets full of 187's
I know by now WOODIE is resting in Peace
May we meet again on judgement day when I'm also deceased.