Artist: 2Pac/Makaveli
Album:  The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory Album
Song:   Krazy
   
Roll me a cigarette dog!
They got me feelin crazier than a motha fucka.
I got bad ass in this motha fucka.

Puffin on lye.
Hopin that it gets me high.
(Makaveli the don, representin the outlaws.)
They got a nigga goin crazy.
(Bad ass representin the LBC)
(What cha wanna do. You know how we do.

Time goes by.
Puffin on lye.
Hopin that it gets me high.
They got a nigga goin crazy.

Feelin crazy.
(Tell em bout it.)

Last year was so hard.
But life goes on.
Hold my head against the wall.
Learning right from wrong.
They say my ghetto intrumental,
Dextrimental to kids.
As if they can't see the misery in which they live.
Lately, for the outcome, damn I'm reckless.
Check it. You don't have to bump this but please respect it.
I took a minus and now the hard times are behind us.
Turned into a plus, now they stuck livin blinded.
Hennessy got me feelin bad. Time to stop drinkin.
Rollin in my drop top Jag.
What's that cops thinkin?
Sittin in my car watch the stars and smoke.
I came along way but still I got so far to go.
Dear mama, don't worry. I'm a watch for snakes.
Tell her that I love her, but it's hard today.
I got the letter that she sent me and I cried for weeks.
This is what came out, when I tried to speak.
All I heard was:

Chorus repeats

1,2,3,4.
I see bloods and crips runnin up the hill.
Lookin for a better way.
My brothas and sistas it's time to bail
Cuz even thug niggas pray.
Hopin God hear me.
I entered the game. Look how much I change.
I'm no longer innocent. Casualties of fame.
Made a lot of money, seen a lot of places.
And I swear I seen a peaceful smile on my mama's face
When I gave her the keys to her own house.
This your land. Your only son done became a man.
Watchin time fly. I love my people do or die.
But I wonder why we scared to let each other fly.
June 1-6 7-1
The day, mama pushed me out her womb, told me "nigga get paid."
No one can understand me. The black sheep. Outcasted from my family.
Now packin heat. I run the streets. A young runaway.
Live for the da,y when ya die, I could hear ya say.

Chorus repeats.

God help me out here, cuz I'm posessed.
I need the root of all evil for my stress.
Cuz now it's like a stong prescription drug.
It's got me addicted to the pleasure and the pain it's inflicted.
Something about the paper wit the pictures of the presidents head.
Damn it's like a motha fuckin plague. It spreads.
It's epidemic. Forgotten, forgotten it got worse.
I keep my head on straight, makin money cuz it's cursed.
Makin money makes a difference day by day
So I gotta stay paid, ain't no doubt. Day in and day out.
This life is like a vicious cycle called fightin to live.
No matter how hard you try, it's in death.
You gotta die.