[Verse 1: King-ISO]:
It never occurred to me how sick I am
It's only real, folks, if it's not planned
Like think, what if my strap did not jam?
I fed so many people that have bit my hand
Try to kick these habits, homie, for this hip-hop, man
Feel like Tim Roth and Pac in Gridlock'd, man
Cats out here will try to leave me dead
Just to jack my plug and try to get my fans
So, Fuck luck, young blood
Like I was hit by chance
Gun tucked, won't buck with a bitch, like "Damn!"
I was homeless, no chips, no whips, like "Man!"
But I kept down bitches that'll kiss my hand
Took a chick clean record, put this gun charge on it
N***as all on my dick, like they jump off on it
Best friend turnin' enemies, and watch me make it
Now I'm looking at them like "this what the fuck y'all wanted?"
Put the other side on, didn't charge a price
Your game I lost, thats a bargain right?
N***a told me don't cross him, but he crossed me twice
How I see it is hes lucky he ain't lost his life
We still bump heads on some awkward nights
It's a small ass world, so we're all disciples
Can't trust no n***a when you large as life
N***a better slow down like a caution light
I'm a gangsta, n***a, What the fuck y'all mean?
Came a long way from the psycho days
Whoever saw that movie and didn't call me crazy
I'm watching that shit, like there my life go bae
My brain be hella sick, I'm going crazy, n***a
I be thinkin' about the psych ward lately, n***a
But I finally got a real chance to make it, n***a
That's why I called Insane and said "Thanks, my n***a"
That's real
[Twisted Insane]:
And that's real
You know it's gonna be a lot of motherfuckers that try to come in
Snakes in the grass out there, homie
And they gon' try to stir shit up
You know what I mean?
But it's you
It all starts with you, homie
What do you wanna do?
Who do you wanna be?
Now once you figure out that
It's all over [?] (Yeah)
And that's real

[Verse 2: King-ISO]:
I ain't have shit, n***a, but the flows I lay
One basket of clothes, scuffs on my J's
Poppin' pills and I would smoke all day
Drinkin' liquor, call the hoes my way
I can't believe a n***a dome got straight
Fake love got thrown my way
My idols real life became my homies
Just imagine all the hope I gained
I'm thinking to myself, "Why I puff my weed?"
I'm high, I get low when I fuck my freaks
I wake up in the morning and I brush my teeth
These n***as in the game hood, just like me
And to think a n***a used to be on cut-throat shit
I ain't talking about spades, I mean gunsmoke shit
Now I get racks on plays when I compose shit
Them mothafuckas' can't wait until I upload shit
Success to my enemies is bitter-sweet
Speaking of, I need to hit this weed
I remember when I was in Atlanta
Spillin' cheap ass wine on Bentley seats
N***as back home, they was mad as fuck
It was just an image, now it's addin' up
I wasn't celebratin' like "N***a, start"
I was just content without havin' none
Back in traffic, still packin' guns
Once you have a son, you quit actin' dumb
From a cell to homeless Now havin' funds
Now I'm puttin' on, here the badges come
My brain be hella sick, I'm going crazy, n***a
I've been thinkin' about the psych ward lately, n***a
But I got a real chance just to make it, n***a
That's why I called Insane and said "Thanks, my n***a"
That's real
[Twisted Insane]:
You know, they say music without the Brain is soulless
I remember when I was hopeless
You know, it's funny that I'm on the fuckin' [?]
I make what I really pawn, n***a
All my idols, All the mothafuckin' tanks
I listened to when I was a kid coming up
All of them
I've done songs with them
Ain't that shit crazy, man?
And that's real
Yeah, like the mothafucka was just handlin' shit, homie
No serious bullshit, n***a
It's been a long road
'Ya know?
Now it's your road
Now it's your time
It's on you...