You're always in position, to voice your opposition, Pulling out the slick persuasion, dealing dope on all occasion. Your dope is lost hope, and you don't even know, How your poison doth kill, and how your words make breathe still. It isn't peace or loving kindness, but a blurred and burning mess, Your dealing out the violence, on hell you take reliance. When you spit rhymes, and split time, to spew your petty crimes, I sit 'n hear you whine, while you take this innocence of mine.