Chance

No sun when I get up, this shit won't let up I stay working but I'm fed up Trying to get the bread up, Pac said keep your head up Ripping through the city I was dead up Spitting up some Henney, many foes want to send me Up the river no paddle, maybe missing kidneys Gripping at death's door life squeezing on my breath more Shit is complicated like Macbeth's core But never mind, real survivors rarely smell the wine Rarely take the time, I lately feel that I'm Just a dude in a mood, don't be fucking with my food Don't be fucking with my money, don't be fucking with my brood I will have the will to set fire and kill Everything you hold holy, so just leave me on my lonely You don't owe me, you don't know me, I be that one and only I be that never phony, I'm an island like I'm Coney