Tekst:
Haystak Portrait Of A White Boy

quarters, halves I was a natural cuz I was pretty good at math Hot temper you can catch me on a warpath You know what they say; hard head make a soft

I'm searchin Well here goes a 4 and a 5 Well a 6 and a 3 but either way it's a 9 [Chorus] [Verse 2] The sink in a drought and I'm tryin to survive Cable

dranks think i might end up in a argument smack dab in da middle of a incident but wen ol'boy got up off his a*s again he look lik jus ben in accident

was drawn to the game like a moth to a flame Guess you could say I had a troublesome past Rememberin talkin to mama, talking through glass The look in her eye, boy