I’m sober.  Not good.  I wanna get bent.

I stuck my hands in my pockets, and came out with lint.

It was time for me, to make a decision.

Do I get a job?  Or go on a ‘gank mission’?

A job ain’t the move;  so it’s time to prove,

That I’mma thievin’ muthafukka,

That ain’t about to lose.

So I thought, “where can I go and get the most for my gank”?

Then it came to me.  The neighborhood bank.

I gave it a lot thought.  Didn’t wanna get caught.

I planned my job real well

Here’s the story I tell.

I walked in the bank.  Took a good look around.

Then slid my gauge and yelled, “EVERYBODY HIT THE FUCKIN’ GROUND?”

“I’m takin’ this bitch for everything it got,

and hopefully be gone, without firin’ a shot.

But if I do, I hope it’s you, you stupid-ass fool,

You should’ve paid attention when I said, “DON’T MOVE!”

I grabbed the cash.

Now it’s time to dash

Then headed for the getaway car real fast.

The engine is running, and it’s time to go.

I gotta lotta money.  Soon I’ll havva lotta hoes.

But them hoes don’t know,

I don’t love-em tho.

I’ll fukkum all I can and them thro-em out tha doe.

I’m sittin’ at the pad enjoyin’ all this green.

When all of a sudden my face is on the TV screen.

It seems when plannin’, I lost some stamina.

I did everything right, except take out the camera.

            Now I’m runnin’ from the law

Because my plan had a flaw.

But I ain’t gettin’ caught because they’ll beat me tooda draw.

I’m Skippin’ from town to town, I’m on the run.

Spendin’ all this money, and havin’ stupid-ass fun.

But the fun is runnin’ out because my pockets getting’ short.

But I still ain’t getting’ caught, cause I’ll lose in court.

Now I’m crazier than I could ever be.

I’m shootin’ any muthafukka that steps to me.

I took my last ‘dub’ and I bought some ‘chronic’.

DAMN!  THERE’S MY FACE ON “AMERICA’S MOST WANTED”!

Before I could ‘jet’ because of what I did,

SWAT unit had already, surrounded the crib.

I heard the ‘bull-horn’, “LE$, COME-OUT-SIDE!”

            I said, “FUCK YOU!”, and put a bullet between his eyes.

Now the firin’ is on, and we’re shootin’ back-n-forth.

THAT’S when I knew I wasn’t makin’ court.

Just about then, I ran outta ammunition.

THAT’S when I knew I made the wrong decision.

So I stepped through the door with my ‘gat’ in my hand.

‘State Pen’ wasn’t gonna see-no-parts of this man.

They shot-up my body with bullets from head-to-toe.

I looked liked ‘Scarface’, starin’ Al Pacino.

Now I’m dead;  and my black soul is headed for hell;

And who else greats me?;  but that fiery guy with the red tail.

He says, “com’on in here LE$. I kinda like yo style.”

Y-don’tcha-come-n-kikkit-wit-da-devil, foe-a-lil’-while.

I said, “what the fuck do I have to lose?”

“At least I ain’t downtown dressed, in ‘county blues’.

He handed me a glass of some gin and somethin’

I just knew I was drunk when I got though gulpin’.

He started talkin’ bout how I could be a new ‘G’.

As long as he could have a little part of me.

I jumped-up and said, “Wait a minute!  Not so fast!”

He said, “Calm down LE$.  I ain’t talkin’ boutcho ass.”

“I’m talkin’ boutcho soul, man you’ll nevva miss it.

Then he reached out his hand so that I could kiss it.

I grabbed his hand, and bit it off.

Spit it on the ground, and told him, “I ain’t soft.”

“You ain’t getting’ my soul or any other part of me.

Cause I don’t need your help to be a muthafukkin G.