When I come home from work
I’m fiendin’ for an eight-ball
I got crack on my mind
I’m hearing cocaine call
Telling me to beep the dealer to deliver me stuff
Keep it a secret from my wife, cuz she thinks I don’t use
drugs
There I was, bleeding from my nose and damn
I couldn’t breathe, but I’m still thinking about the next
gram
It’s Friday night and I’m not trying to leave my crib doped
I’ll kill myself while the dealer’s eating Japanese food
I ain’t got no pride, While buying the shit
I’m lying to myself telling the runner I’m trying to quit
It’s all make believe, I pretend that I’m true
When you give me credit, I’ll dodge you every chance that I
get to
Even if its good, I’ll sniff it up in a minute
Beep you back and complain that you put too much cut in it
If you fall for that and bring me a new sack
I’ll be making more crazy faces than a JIM CAREY on crack
Cuz yo I’m ripped, I owe you loot
Plus I annoy you
I deserve to be murdered, but the coke is doing it for you
I got nerve, can you put them pills on my bill
Yo I tell you we’re friends and yo we don’t even chill
I need drugs
by

NECRO

(via joaquinhighroller)