| Oh shit |
| Half frozen in a coffee shop |
| About a half a mile a half a block |
| Where Tommy stopped |
| I had to breathe a second |
| Wheezing hectic |
| Knee disconnected |
| Nerves shot, turn the spot, it’s full of cops |
| God damn |
| Leg bent, side step dropped in a booth |
| Jesus, pain shot through the roof |
| Play it safe, smile |
| Show lots of tooth |
| And I’m pale so I use the menu as a veil |
| Huh, fuck, the pockets in my jeans ripped open |
| They prolly seen it when I walked in scopin' |
| The scene, now I’m watchin' the window, both |
| As I lean I can scream, with the motion’s broken |
| The left lower limb I mean |
| I ordered toast when, she approached |
| God damn nose started dribblin' red |
| She looked strange, I said |
| «I just came from a rave up on 8th and Chambers |
| Slipped in the bathroom. Dangerous ain’t it? |
| When the floor’s wet and the walls are freshly painted.» |
| She turned away swift, the burgers gettin' flipped |
| And my brain is a murder case, shit |
| I’m not playin' |
| They lookin' at me (Shit) |
| The cook will rat me |
| Paranoia’s got me shook, I’m hearin', «Book 'em Danny.» |
| Fuck I mean Dan-O, I’m in Hell and it won’t stop |
| Those fuckin' animals will grab me up it’s a sure shot |
| I’m panickin' sick, mannequin stiff |
| Still no sign of Tommy or the man he was with |
| Probably caught him in the lobby when we ran in the hotel |
| The body drenched, mahogany, somebody’s gonna go tell |
| This ain’t an «Oh well» situation’s past tense |
| Like the word 'saved', oh Lord, can I repent? |
| It was all in defense, no false pretense |
| I could sit in court and swear and never have to pretend |
| The law though has never been on the poor folk |
| Defendin' every tension so the answer is «Lord, no.» |
| I choke coffee spatter |
| (Matter of fact man, can I get the toast wrapped up to go?) |
| Back up |
| That’s what I should have done |
| Fuck a knee, shoulda run |
| Now it’s me, 20 officers, insane number of guns |
| All starin' at me, I’m starin' down |
| Preparin' the bloody red in the coffee ground |
| I’m goin' down |
| He starts walkin' |
| Here we go now |
| Gets up |
| Puts in the call, but before |
| I could stand up |
| Sat right across from me |
| Fidgetin' I’m twitchin' and I’m whisperin' awkwardly |
| «I'm visitin', I’m new in town, excuse me officer |
| I didn’t know that sittin' here this long was unlawful sir |
| My bad.» |
| And then I relax back |
| If the bleeding didn’t relapse it couldn’t be that bad |
| Spoke too soon |
| Emotion to get closer to |
| A visage and his image looked all emotional |
| He put the blood on his hands |
| I peeped the cuffs in his pants |
| And no amount of bluffin' could amount to toughen my stance |
| Damn |
| They crowd around me |
| My thoughts are gettin' rowdy |
| There’s no escapin', every second planned is lookin' vacant |
| My hands shakin' nervous |
| The man’s takin' notice |
| I can’t focus they’re swarmin' like god damn locust |
| I’m scared and I wasn’t prepared for this |
| I wanna tear out my hair, can’t handle shit |
| I hear the sirens now |
| Niggas, my time is out |
| See the window |
| Look at Tommy, point, drop my mouth |
| (Oh shit) |