My Diary

(feat. Denise Weeks) Pardon the Syzzrup... [Jim Jones] Now we try corners Old folks try and warn us The cops try and swarm us Blocks hot like saunas Well fuck it I'ma risk it Got a bunt nigga twist it Imma get drunk with my biscuit 5 cent cup, take a sip kid Imma product of the p-jects My teachers always told me that I'd prolly be a reject I came up by my lonely now I'm a product of that D-Set Two twelvin with my homie, he caught a homy of that d-wreck He said it had him zonin' left the body in bulding three steps The project now on fire every where you see the detects His high is coming down cause now he's nervous smokin bogeys And now he findin out that fuckin murder was his co-D And this the shit that happens all too often up in Harlem No shit you smell a rat you better off him whats the problem In this business sellin crack we cook that raw shit up to hard shit And tell my fellas that and to my coffin steady mobbin' to my coffin steady mobbin'