There's death in the air my eyes are bloodshot red.
I'm forever blunted so I don't care.
Word to my nappy black hair it's the year of the leader
a follower's a dummy he'll die alone with no fuckin' money;
All alone in his crib lookin' out the WINDOW while the WIND BLOW
playin' NINTENDO.
Jackin' off shit like that's not happenin'
hands are clappin toes are tappin' niggas is rappin'!
(Who the fuck are you?) Yo, I'm the Nine. Forever blunted, always hunted,
in my prime.
My skills have grown like a fungus to make Gs in the Hundreds,
as the tongue gets WICKED, I KICK IT.
On the Ave, with my niggas, passin' C-notes,
guzzlin' 40s wrapped in brown paper bags; loadin' up mags, 5-0 patrols,
I'm still BLUNTED, still hunted, still don't know what the fuck he wanted.
Jumped out the blue-and-white with that bullshit stick in his grip tight,
I ain't in the mood tonight.
Forever stressin', make a nigga want to pull his Smith-N-Wesson...
(Redrum!) No question.
That shit be makin' your screws loose and like an old shopping cart,
we ain't tin men, niggas got heart!
Like my nigga Noble and my nigga Troy,
strong, real brothers with balls get 9-1-1 calls.
WHEN SHIT HITS THE FAN, THERE I STAND WITH MY BLUNT AND MY GLOCK IN MY HAND,
WHAT'S THE PLAN?
We bum rushin' all snakes and devils no matter their color,
we're the next generation of rebels.
Hard-headed, undisciplined and ruthless, you'll wind up toothless,
the wanted, forever blunted...
[Banging on door, phone ringing]
(Damn, man, who the fuck was that, man? Niggas is bangin' on the door, fuckin'
game is on, fuckin' kid is cryin. I'm stressed, man, damn! I need a blunt
now!)
