[Verse 1: T.R.I.P.]
Dear lord help me forget all my sins, one minute I think I’m good
The next thing would be my death
Hit up J. Chet, let them fuckas know we next
We coming straight for the neck
We running up for them checks
Grab the AK, reload it and let it bang
Call your bitch mayday, cause she go down on me everyday
Fuckin' spitting twisted lyrics to calm all my senses
Fuck a label, and a handout, bitch, we independent

[Verse 2: VAGUE]
A cold day is always feelin' the same
In the house of pain, through wait for habits to drain
Never let up, I always get up
And running thru the problems I deal with may be the same for you
Rather be alone, in my conscience for so long
As I sit in stone, I let my intentions be known
Blood curdling sour, cause I live by the hour
Only a minute to scour to find the source to empower

[Verse 3: CHETTA]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yea
And bitch I'm dead talking
Dead walking on the set
Dripping wet coffin
Gone pull the AK out the back
And get that bitch sparking
Gon' switch the choppa
For the MAC
And now your bitch jockin'
The police ride around
All day chalking
But I just chalk it up
Don't give a fuck
'Cause I ain't talking
Ain't it awful
How they sleeping on me
I'm Posturepedic
I got pull with plenty bitches
They gone want me
'Til they need me
Okay