Rats Maze - Slaine

If it’s one thing I hate in this world homie it’s rat mazes

Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn

Up in front the dollar store stood the whore

She’s up to no good before

Walk into your crib high heels hitting the wooden floor

Sky across her abdomen, brown eyes shitty face

Cold so cold amongst the projects, city scapes

A fat man is fucking her his pop belly hangs

He wheezes when he breathes

Jesus she got fangs

She’s stranger than a stranger, she’s dangerous

She played Atari while old man smoked angel dust

Back as kids hanging on the bench of cracking bearing

Her boyfriend so crack he’s back to rack and tearing

She dropped out in the 10th grade but the sack a smack

And after that got kicked around like a hackey sack

Shit is a cold world for a girl

She never had a conscious she only had abortions

Beggars can’t be choosers

You eat shit in rationed portions

This is a story about a bitch back in Boston

If it’s one thing I hate in this world homie it’s rat mazes

Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn

Boston’s a good place to meet bad people

I can’t even explain that

The dangerous, the ruggedness

Depressin', Pathetic

Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn

Boston’s a good place to… bad people

Little man’s broke, plus his mom struggle with cold pops

An OG that ODed last screams made his veins freeze

On the southern smoked over chilling in his shoulder

Screwing in his lap he cooked his smack, gave us all a slap

From the greatest crap he died from a fatal zap

Besides that, his nesses is smoking rest

Far from blast, rising questions

For the one’s who’ll die next

Starring at the pie racks

Up in the projects watching his mom scrip the lighter

The pipe even tighter, she took a toke

Filled her lungs with smoke

Held until she chocked, and blew a cloud from her throat and spoke

Like this is the cope reason to cope and pour a C note

I purchase 5 20's with the money rip the plastic bag

Placed a rock on the glass, and yelled the second glass is strong

Drag the churk and rob the ash

Cough like an old hag like little man paces the bad

Praying for paces with the paces in Boston mass

If it’s one thing I hate in this world homie it’s rat mazes

Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn

Boston’s a good place to meet bad people

I can’t even explain that

The dangerous, the ruggedness

Depressin', Pathetic

Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn

Boston’s a good place to… bad people

Ayo, purp smoke blowing in her hair now she going hard

Door knockers on the air swimming slobbin oggs

Live on her knees but worship ain’t the purpose

She giving hat service, slurping niggas for purses

Open the closed curtains, she fucking everyday y’all

Clubbing every night different players on the radar

Smuther around the way y’all day long no stopping

Mels in and out the box she the post office

No dark physiques bitch pop and burnin

Fry a nigga wig Malcom X with his permin

Vermin, all in the apartment squirming

Dirty laundry, pow dishes no detergent

Words she done play a few, snooze and she 'll take your dough

Canari type for a wife can’t mistake the hoe

Got a couple nigga hit, round she don’t give a shit

Nothing new same old script just a different beat

If it’s one thing I hate in this world homie it’s rat mazes

Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn

Boston’s a good place to meet bad people

I can’t even explain that

The dangerous, the ruggedness

Depressin', Pathetic

Can’t stop, won’t stop, damn

Boston’s a good place to… bad people