Guest
As I strut through the shadows of the death’s alley, I take a gander at my life and see it’s all hooey. ’Cause I’ve been lettin’ ’em have it and yukkin’ it up so long, that Even my old lady thinks my marbles are gone. But I ain’t never given the business to a joe who didn’t have it comin’, Me treated like a sap, you know that’s outta the question. You better mind your flap, and where your dogs are takin’ ya, Or you and your pals might end up outlined in white. I really hate to take a spill but I gotta go on the lam, As they kick the bucket, I see myself in the smoke of my roscoe, mug. I’m the kind of big cheese the young bloods wanna emulate, On my knees in the dead of night, whisperin’ a few words to the man upstairs under the streetlamp. Look at the pickle they got me in, I can’t live a square life, I was brought up by the streets, So I gotta play ball with the gang from my turf. Too much time in front o
