"I know how it feels to wake up fucked up
Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell
People look at ya like use to used
Selling drugs to all the losers mad buddha abuser
But they don't know about the stress-filled day
Baby on the way mad bills to pay
That's why you drink tangaray
So you can reminisce and wish
You wasn't living so devilish"
Street poetry at its finest
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