My life is- I’m dependent, I can’t help it. I started at a young age. I’m too dependent on it, you know? Drugs and music get me where I wanna go now. But I gotta make the money for it and it’s not that easy nowadays.
[Chorus]
My uncle shoots heroin, my father used to do cocaine My moms used to smoke weed with her friends when I was eight Smoked weed when I was twelve, sold weed at fourteen Bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity Conscious rap is bullshit, gangster rap is a fraud This is real rap, bang your fucking head through the wall This is drug music, stuck with a syringe in your arm I’m the truth like the name of the song Yo my uncle shoots heroin
[Verse 1]
Bathroom floor, found a syringe When I was on the Hydro Tour Howie went out on a binge The snake bitch I was fucking even took him to cop A month later he was on the floor looking for rock Missed a flight to Czech Republic, walked in the path Of Howie lying in his own puke dying from crack Cocaine poisoning, he shot the heroin since fourteen February 2003, he was clean I helped him out, he kicked crack, dope, and meth Hosted shows, free clothes, bubblebaths, autographs T-shirts, soon I’mma make a Howie action figure Before his latest relapse I’m glad I captured pictures I love Howie, homie used to change my diapers To save him I’d have jumped in front of spray from snipers But this is just something that he’s gotta do on his own I try to get through to him with this song yo
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
He used to live in my crib, sleep on my couch smoking Newport 100’s Gave me comic books, bought me my first bass guitar Learned from my grandma how to tell you the future with cards Watch the sci-fi channel high off of methadone More addictive than anything injected in the arm D.T.’s five in the morning waking my moms Got a search warrant but Howie Tenenbaum is gone Roaming the streets, he was a superhero to me When I was five I used to pick the seeds out of his weed Nodding out, burning cigarette holes in his sheets Wake up and eat a box of Captain Crunch then go back to sleep He was a crackhead too, he might still be A walking relapse, that motherfucker’s still on the street You tell him right he goes left Show him right he does wrong I hope I get through to him with this song yo
Compositor: William Braunstein (Ill Bill) ECAD: Obra #39205759