Martyr - Shyne

Shit, sometimes man, a nigga be contemplating

Yo, living in fuckin' hell, nigga die, might be better

Walk through the shadow of death, my dick out pissing

Rebel, laughing at the devil, homicidal threats

Only if he knew, I wanna lie cold, who the fuck wanna die old

On this miserable earth, forever, put me in dirt

It’s better then living searchin treasure

That only brings atrocity, and treachery, baby mothers stressing me

Ain’t no hope left in me

Live everyday like it’s my last

Waitin' to meet my niggas that passed

At last I could meet Christ, ask him why the fuck you died on the cross

Gere these stupid motherfuckers, they still lost

I’ll ask Malcolm, see what it was like to fight for civil rights

And nights he thought he would die, what did he do

Did he grab his gun and a bust shot?

Get on my knees praise Big and go fuck with 'Pac

Find out did he really take 5 shots

Ask him, who shot ya, was it the Feds?

Couldn’t have been Big Poppa, Brooklyn niggas ain’t bred

Like that, ask Martin, why the fuck you ain’t fight back

If you had a choice, life or death

What would you choose

If you had a choice

Life ain’t real its a dream we see tomorrow

Reality, shit that’s pain and sorrow

Reality, disaster beat breaks

A little girl up in the projects gettin raped

Reality’s a nigga gettin rock shot 41 times

And you askin why I run from one time

I don’t even get justice

Nigga sometimes, no times, oh I’m bout to lose my mind

Reality’s fucked up, like a hard workin mother, losing her job

The battle of good and evil

Like the devil, ain’t losing for god, we on lucifer’s squad

Not knowing what the fuck it all mean

I can’t even, get a can of sardines

Niggas driving bentley’s, burning money, I’m yearnin money

Taking your shit, I’m earning money

Yet you call me a thief I call me a broke nigga trying to eat

On this earth suffering, why its like that

Guess we the punished, blame Adam and Eve

If you had a choice

Hold your latex, from nuns I take sex

Play chess, with the devil from the sky

Like rain shells drop immune to this cold world’s sorrow

Beyond shell shock, can’t you tell pop, I need some help ox

See them meadow officers watchin' myself rot

Ice pick and cell blocks

Hope the 12 stop on the highway to hell, switchin lanes

Niggas that know, what I mean to suffer and struggle in the gutter

Slice birthday cakes with box cutters

I did not stutter, you heard me this is utter, reality

Observe me, on a journey puttin niggas on gurneys till I meet my maker

In the name of Amadu Diallo, Fuck Guiliani and Howard Seiffler!!!

c’mon

If you had a choice