I think that um, um there are more people that are bad than there are good   I feel miserable when I'm bad      Yo' yo;    Every dialectic shapeshift's a makeshift shield of hatred   I spit fire   Quick fire   Twist fire   Rollin' roach from a ripped flyer   Tip toeing over ego trip wire   Soft steppin' on eggshells as hell beckons   A bed of black rose petals on my twenty second   With twenty seconds on the clock I kept many guessin'   A game of death threats met with defiance so   I bring stones for the riots   While the right side of the brain extends through computer science   Flicks fictionalise our lives   In alliance with the Queen in the core of the hive   Breeding parasites   The wise read and analyse the scrolls   Stolen souls dissolve in alcohol   Master drunken pole   A cold-hearted defence in this dungeon hole   I hold hope for the globe in a closed palm   Locked in a gold heart   Lost and emotionally charged   I chart progress   Through this pain staking process   Elimination of the grotesque no less   This overblown mess left grown men stressed and suicidal   Cyanide drips from the vinyl   My vital signs fade   I'm trapped in a pessimist mind-state   A frozen emotional ice age      You can't be everywhere at once doing everything for everybody   Everybody can't get what they want   It mean that they...   Everybody can't get what they want      Yo'   My words form pictures   Jigsaws built from torn scriptures   A warped image   A collage of small figments   Inter-related   Creative with raw English   I walk with born sinners who talk business   (Yeah, yeah, how much?)   Subs and permanent fixtures   Medicine man sippin' elixirs   Wettin' my lips and lickin' the Rizlas   Listening to enemy transmissions   Sittin here pickin' the splinters out of my flesh   The fresh script inker   Indica stick sticky finger   Balanced on the brink of drinking binges   While friends sink syringes   Into their skin and it could all end in an instance   With no-one to discipline the infants   Walking the ledge   I stay nimble as ninjas   My pen nib inches   Closer and closer   Ghosts in my dome stay closed in a coma   Crows overhead   Twisted as the trail we tred   Most failed or fled   Ended up jailed or dead   But never me   Eyes in the back of my head   For any enemy   Ready for them backstabbers   Suited and booted on this black Sabbath   Truly polluted by the pain   I paint the blues on a blank canvas   We're all judged by the same standards   Saints, gangsters, to base heads in St. Pancras   It's plain madness   My brain strains to make sense of   We blaze ten spots   This games deadlocked      He can see us whatever we do   What ever we do he has such...   And he can still see us when we're bad   And he can still see us when we're bad   I feel miserable when I'm bad   I think that um, um there are more people that are bad than there are good   And um, if you're good you'll live forever   And if you bad you'll die when you die