Слова:
Vio Lence Nothing To Gain

I'm what you better address I come directly from you I'm in the air Exist in the sea And I am poisoning your food Your burning lungs are from me Your

I'm trapped in this cage while others hold me down Direct my pen as their fist comes down They meddle and interfere in my affair With the written word

Like the suffering of Christ Like the screaming of his time I am the misery Born with open eyes Like running blood Like running slaves Like warriors

Pimp selling whores Young runners selling crack Bars on your doors Shotgun shoved in your back Thick is the shit The walking wasted of life Nothing

Your sweet soul comforts me Your eyes show the desires of a whore To touch your flesh on my skin To feel the heat that you bring You'll serve my purpose