Paper and Powder

Ink on the veil, blood on the steel. Weight of the

world I can't conceal. Chasin the paper, dodgin the pain. Smoking the barrel,

cash in the vein. Money talks louder than the preachers choir.

Copper jacket whispers, "Set the streets on fire." Every stack's a scar,

every round's a sin. Vault full of ghosts, where the devil

grins. Countin' dirty blessings, hands stained with grime. Pocket full of

shells, I'm erasing time. Wrist iced heavy but the guilt still raw.

Every dollar a confession, every clip my law. I see the