I aint about to sing the blues winners are sinners and sinners loose twist the oxymorons into universal signs, signs are left undetected without a ryme cuz it s a crime to be blunt it’s a crime to smoke a blunt kid why you gotta pull that stunt ya runt, with my words ima kick it and flip it and snap it in half,half is the whole story,chill out don’t worry a heart attack aint funny the forcast says its sunny, sunny behind the clouds maybe,dude back up stop calling me baby, babys cry I aint cryin ima live it up since were all dieing I’ll spit out some veins dig my thoughts in your brain, add and subtract till its all the same,its all a game, games have names, the names of the winners aint the same as the sinners no one can predict the snow, no one can predict the future no one knows when life will go, but we all go with life. Life is a slice by a knife handed out by god we can see the word lets all aplaud