Veebe( que tu maldita madre)

I`m sick of b*tches shakin` asses I`m sick of talkin` about blunts, Sick of Versace glasses, Sick of slang, Sick of half-asz awards shows, Sick of name brand clothes. Sick of R&B b*tches over bullshit tracks, Cocaine and crack Which brings sickness to hispanic`s n blacks, Sick of swoll` head rappers With their sicker-than raps Clappers and gats Makin` the whole sick world collapse The facts are gettin` sick Even sicker perhaps Stickabush to make a bundle to escape this synapse.**************************************************** ************************************************************ ************************************************************ **************************Yo, people go through pain and still don`t gain Positive contact just like my main man Who got others cleaning up his physical influence His mind got congested He got the nine and blew it Neighborhoods are now hoods cause nobody`s neighbors Just animals surviving with that animal behavior Under I who be rhyming from dark to light sky Experiments when needles and skin connect No wonder where we live is called the projects**************************************************** ************************************************************ ************************************************************ ******* I`m to metaphorically raw for your mind to process and comprehend it all. To ghetto oriented to be oblivious to the real world. I stand strong -n- tall. Dominican pride, won't let me take a fall. There`s too much ridding. Another ghetto nigga fighting physically, mentally, metaphorically, and artistically to be accepted in your society motha fu*ka. **