Growing into my britches
Out, growing the streets
Theres a thin line between war and peace
Whores and jeeps
Ignore emcees like beef
Scribbling freedom on pages
My third eye is like pink eye. Seeming contagious.

OR:

It's like I'm fighting for freedom
Writing for freedom
These record company niggas I dont like when I see him
My ancestors when I'm writing I see them
And talk with them,
Hoping in the promised land I can walk with them