These streets will kill you mane.
You need protection from the geto witches.
But if you use it that’ll make ‘em suspicious—
They’ll get to stepping all over your plans.
I’m so caught up in the system;
I pray to God, but I ain’t know if he even listening.
I fell in step with witches.
I did their funky deeds.
I satisfied their needs.
And now I’m buying the food in the kitchen.
Now the cauldron’s bubbling and boiling—
I feel my life being flushed down the toilet.
If you wanna get yourself from
From this wicked trap they set—
Oh boy, you will, I bet!—
Just shut ye chatterbox and listen to me:
Approach the bench with a big-ass smile,
And say, “Your honor, that is not my child.”