BARRY BONDS

Uh, and while I'm born to write this, you're the porter the type to bite it's

Why I'm borderline and nicest, no imported lines or guidance

But still defeatin' ya meaning, I'm bout as sick as sickle-cell anemia

I think I need a pick-me-up, bet the weed lift me up

Moment I breathe it in, step outside the trees, hittin' the milly rock

I walk around, observe the streets, avoid the city cops

See the blue and red lights, of police at almost every block

I promise mama I'll make it out, so y'all gon' give me props

So gimme my respect or I'm gon' take it like I'm in the mob

Been on my job, I'm makin' beats and I've been spittin' rhymes