Bloodstream

Draw, aim, shoot, kill

I ain't got no story, nor a single dollar bill

Mother fuckers tryina shoot me, but they always make a sound

In the end I always hear 'em and they always end down, then they

Beg for mercy, and they beg for grace, but a

Bullet with their name is on a fast-paced race

Going in, going out, make em bleed, like a sprout, till they

Lay on the floor, plain steadily

Next day arrives, pure silence strives, and

Peace seems to fill our avenue, but when