Pen

Rudeacus shakes his head and looks down on his pen and paper that he had as he laid in his cell, he couldn't write properly and could only write in rhymes because that was the only way he could actually express himself in writing.

man dont give a fuck cah man is down to die for this money
got my middle finger, shoutin 'fuck the world' clutchin on ma strally,
buh my belly's achin.. i need some paper so i can eat
nah i cant eat 'cah i aint packin' heat..
chill i got a knife, i can take somebody's life,
stab em up five times, grab their money in the strife,
so i do it, an couple hours later i cant believe whats in front of me
a cop beatin on poor gyal is what i see

so i clench my fist, get in my stance
swingin for this man an i take this chance
it didnt hit him, so he starts walkin up to me
i bash him in the sonar plex an anyone can see
that it hurt him, but he aint really that fussed
cah the pussy wearin armor that wuldnt even hurt if i bussed

so he's got me, slammed me right on the floor,
put cuffs on me and now im facin these four walls,
i dont give a fuck, im down to die for my pride
but as i open my eyes i see the thing im tryna hide

ive hit the lowest of the low cah thats all i really have
my pride, my hate, my knife an thats all I really have,
i just hope one day that Allah can get me out this trap
but.. ive done wrong cause i cant put his name in that bar
cah you cant abide by Islam when you're raised by the dogs.