Troubled Soul

I remember a little bro, he hit my phone, said he ready to shoot,

Told him pull up to

the crib, make sure to bring his dirty shoes,

Asked me why it's gon' get messy, I told him pick and choose,

Said you gon' risk your life for gang or you gonna lose,

Too much adrenaline for pain bitch gon' get you loose,

Snatch his chain off his body, don't forget the tooth,

He called me the other day, asked me how to pray,

Now the nigga spending days in a federal prison, Damn I be missing

The way he joked around,

Mad every second,

Made it go down,