Memoir of a Ghetto Poet Lyrics

Zipped up my pop coat

Stunt like it was lunchtime

I'm good where I go

I'm walk like I see trip-mines

I tripped down the foxhole

Blood got on my sweater

That's one tricky lil' bastard

Tell myself that I shoulda known better

Next time this happens

I hope I'm fully grown

By then

I hope somehow it's easier makin' happy songs

Why then, arrivin' at my eighth magnum opus

Would not beauty lie beneath the eyes and

Held by each who hold it

So would you hold this?

White knuckle the wheel fa me please

Let me smoke dis

I said white knuckle the wheel for me please, let me focus

I'm like Bruce Willis in Cop Out

This my Andy Pafko

Take me to the cop house, so I could get it mapped out

Put GM on the east coast and

One I left in Nashville

See, I'm in my own lane

Keepin' it

Ten grand still

Blame it on my

Own mind

The devil took my last bill

Lemme hit you back, I'm busy kickin' up this ant hill

I'll go 50/50 in this two man band still

Posin' for the picture

Close my eyes in each the photos

You could steal my style but

You can't replicate the mojo

Gold tooth and a fur coat

Get groceries in my trophy horse

Smokin' switchin' vinyls skimmin' over UFO reports