Mistaken Identity (Bonus Track)

(album: State Of Grace - 2011)

Yo turn this up in your whip
Cause Slaine and Statik Selektah on this shit
Push the seat back... and turn the system up
True story; pay attention to the details

"Think about the robbery... last week"
"Hey Young World, wanna hear a story?"
"This is a tale, of lost innocence"
"Stick up kids that's out for tax!"

I live in these streets daily so when I write 'em you can picture these
Stories supposedly were seperated by some six degrees
Whether youse as thick as thieves, junkies eatin Mickey D's
Cookin dope in a spoon, rollin up their frickin sleeves
Like Bobby with the burnt out eyes, bruised up veins
Lackluster charm, rotted arms, and used up game
Dopesick and stinkin old ladies at ATM's
With wrinkled skin for eyelids, threw punches and caved them in
They had bad habits, badder teens turned stickup kids
Turned needle-shooters, turned erratic fiends
And now it seems Bobby's doin B&Es, breakin and enterin
Takin what's temptin and hoppin fences 'til his ankles are bent again
Race for the hotbox, stolen 'caine and X-Box
A couple games, a couple lames in the front seat swervin lanes
Flippin middle fingers at suburban dames
Driving by whose pussies got wet filled with nervous shames
Back to Southie, hopped out the car
Then ran their mouths like the fuckin dope fiends they are

"I need loot, so I'm doin what I do"
"Junkies in the alley with the baseball bat"
"He's coming up short cause he snorts coke, dope, nope"
"I hope he don't get caught"

Word on the street it spread to this kid named Ed
Whose crib got robbed for X-Box, cocaine, and his bread
The block is always watchin, it's just the same as the feds
But the streets is always fast to put a name with a head
It's easier to kill a junkie when he lays in his bed
But it's hard to find a snake when the skin he stays in his shed
And he leaves his corner, stays inside the Days Inn instead
Gets locked up in the Bay addin the days in his head
Ed rolled over to Southie with a knife like a faggot
Lookin for Bobby who committed the robbery he's tryin to stab it
He got a habit for murder he wanna kill him slow
He stole some shit out his wife's room he's gonna kill him yo
A grey Infiniti rolls five-deep up our street
He holds the blade inside his hand tightly 'til their eyes meet
Before he stabbed him in the abdomen he screams the wrong name
Thought it was Bobby, he punctured his lungs with the long shank
Jumped into his whip, pedal to the floor with his friends
Thinkin justice is sweet when it ends with revenge
Only problem is Bobby wasn't the dude screamin Jesus
Bleedin in the street, it was Timmy with the same features
He worked for the Boys Club, no drugs, no thugs
Now he's slumped in the street chokin on his own blood
It's mistaken identity

"You know the evil that men do, hell is where the men go"
"And the game won't change, it's the same old thing"