Lock and loadnDuck downnWhen you hear the sound of one hundred rounds tear your house to the groundnThat's how they are getting down downtownnWe're killing over color and were heaven sent and hell boundnnFather wasn't around to beat me downnSo I'm a conscious less psychopath on the streets of a ghost townnnBodies slumped on their steering wheelsnBrains climbing from their mouthsnMuscles protruding from their woundsnLike even they want outnnNobody gets outnNobody ever makes it outnAnd before I drew my head from the cunts mouthnnOne foot was in the gravenThey're dying so young where I come fromnIt's gun or be gunnednRun or be ran overnMan over mannFoolhardy as they comenAs kids we skipped the funnFascinated with numbers, and ways we could make them runnnUnaware we had just hung the possibility of a kosher becomenIt's so damn dark out herenHailstones blot out the sunnnBodies, buried atop on anothernCutters, keep on hacking up my brothersnnThey're letting shots loosenFrom Sacramento to SyracusenAnd I dreamt I put it all behind menThen I awoke to...nnSounds of busting gunsnBullet holes in lungsnTaste your guts sliding off of your tonguenTendons, bone fragments lodged in your gumsnMothers praying for the health of her sonnSickens me, what we've becomennBodies, buried atop one anothernCutters, keep on hacking up my brothers