Оригинален текст
[GZA]
He's running in a short race, shoelace untied
Head down, facial expression he can't hide
Kid with no direction, seems confused
A victim who spent years, being abused
His moms a drug addict, she has a bug habit
Was a seven day event, since she celebrated the Sabbath
But she back slid, or that's what the crack did
She used to shoot up, under her sleeves, the track hid
A long time ago, the father left the picture
And as time went on, he was erased from the scripture
The son, he don't have much to treasure
And these kids that be getting on him, they do it for pleasure
Demons are gradually growing inside him
Way before he ever knew the courts would divide him
A wall around himself had became a shell
Was a whole new person, by the time the bricks fell
[Chorus: Rock Marcy]
It's a short race, duck the court dates
The pork gave chase, we had to walk straight
You know the forte, nigga it's a portrait
Or should I say a poor trait
You want to store very short cake
Estate, behind the gate
N.Y. State, why wait?
You trying to get paid by the lake
In each state, and do the shit at high pace
[GZA]
Under the dirt, there was nothing left but bones
A lot of tall grass around his tombstone
His mother left alone, her heart felt sorrow
No time to play with the precious time we borrow
They live next door, but he was worlds away
In reality, but such a high price to pay
He was easy to recognize from his dress code
Nothing but a firework about to explode
A short fuse, who was bound to lose in the struggle
His grandparents went through a great deal of trouble
To keep him out of jail, they even put they house on sale
To post bail, but the kid still failed
I remember when he called collect from behind bars
Suffering from two injuries and nine scars
He said he'd give anything to be out the pen
But it would be his permanent home until the end
[Chorus]
[Rock Marcy]
Wait, I got to get mines
With a side of French fries, not kid sized
Sixes fives, I give off a pimp's vibe
Is it the vines? Watch like a sitcom
Throwing rocks with my pitching arm
More bricks than when the Knicks is on, I'm sitting on
Shitting on your boss, been written off
Shots I'm licking off, the top like a different source
Ripping this raw like a kitchen chore
That's a block not chicken broth
Hold the pot with your mittens on
Dicks kicking in the door, and went to pick me off like a lintball
Jumped out the fifth floor it's a pit fall
When I hit the lawn, shit it fell like a jigsaw
Rather get hit at the board, then to get tossed
Went to court, got shipped off like a brick of soft
[Chorus]
