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If I held a glass up to your mouth
would you trust enough to drink
from the cup if I told you it was
something good would you drink
from my lines of lies about this
tremendous tribulus high done
concoction concocted to spiral
the mind through a tumultuous
tunnel of foggy melee struggles
40 acres of 40 ounces and pounds
of pure peer pressure cooking measures
of ghetto vines that choke the life out of
tilled and cultivated land and little
sprouts juiced up rage on crime sprees
3rd degrees 3 strikes to felonies
How thirsty are you to drink from
a strangers cup of woo juice
promises to mellow you out
out of your clothes indecently exposingy
our skull and bones to the world
do not let the rim touch your mouth
whistling Dixie to wet your whistle
Let it not be the first let it never be
