Text:
Strung Out Letter Home

fight anymore And I'm still not sure what I'm doing here I'm praying and praying, are you praying, too? Cause I do not understand And if you get this letter

fight anymore And I'm still not sure what I'm doing here I'm praying and praying, are you praying, too? Cause I do not understand And if you get this letter

thousand dollars, charge free, right out municipal Niggaz get played off to the left like they was southpaws Toss you to the Outlawz, then let them shoot it out

"The Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin' Cafe" Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin' Oh, the Old Home Filler-up An' Keep On A-Truckin

in my own blood Lookin for the reason that my momma's strung out on drugs Down to die, for everything I represent Meant every word, in my letter to the

nothing but a disease I folded it to save it but got lost within the crease Now I'm hoping I can't recognise the pictures Blurred out faces and the bodies

in my own blood Lookin for the reason that my momma's strung out on drugs Down to die, for everything I represent Meant every word, in my letter to the

Strung out on leaving One leg stretched for the curb The other one grounds itself against rebirth So the swallows will stay in the barn The finches left

in my own blood Lookin for the reason that my momma's strung out on drugs Down to die, for everything I represent Meant every word, in my letter to the