in the bay
thats how they raised me
west side oakland
ive been sittin in this haze
for hella days, b

my people hear lies, fear fives with beer sighs
blunt yawns, gun songs, while another year dies

but what u gonna do tho

what u trynna prove yo

u a child of this ghost town story, aint nothin new bro

open doors lead strictly into veiled vacant buildings

broken floors need sickly windows


failed



aincient




killings

.

__

fairweather