Chief Kamachi - The Edge lyrics

Yo, the first grandson of Phillip Lee
Grew up on the Ave, where they was dealing D
Searching for my moms
Oh where could Camilla be?
My Uncle Upstate, hope they set my killa free
Days is dreary
Little swollen eyes stay teary
Grandmoms died on my birthday
Speak of a dearly until this day
Feel like a warm embrace they near me
And got me
When this young nigga can't think clearly
Inside me, had to be strong from the start
Day-by day but everybody around
Me falling apart alone in the dark
Wanna put the chrome to my heart
With the heavenly weed that I
Know the angels spark
These the things that influenced my behavior
Go to Church probably put a
Shell in the Savior worship for what!?!
Niggas ain't working enough
Was praying to pay my way but
I judge for a book
Tryna stroll but it seems the
World was hurting my strut
Don't wanna have to resort
To drastic measures
I'll kill for a bird with fantastic feathers
If I don't get paid off this voice
These classic treasures

I'm on the edge nigga
Like I was born on the ledge
Cuz I said "Please" that don't mean
To push me to the edge
Hard to be righteous but easy to
Put one in ya head
I'm from the slums in Congo
Live from this dunya

Yo, I live them Section-8 Housing tales
Depressed, chain-smoked over 2, 000 L's
Hungry miles, with little vials to sell
Keep my bear warm in Philly's crowded jail
Some ain't coming home or
Even browsing bells
Suicidal, whether we be doused in hell
It's strapped in special war
In the middle of blue walls
Where they keep human vegetables stored
Some genius with incredible scores
But than the kitchen crack come send
'em to their ghetto medical store
They go crazy, or smoke that Bolivian pure
Skies is hazy, is these days we living in war
And I wrote this A&R, the infirmary floor
From my brothers became broke like
They learned to be poor on the edge nigga

Man, what kind of world is this?
Man, the faggots have stolen
The fucking rainbow, man

Maybe I'm crazy
Never occurred my state blurred
From the tropical herb
Messing with my optical nerves
With the doctors observed
Is the young hustler disturbed
Got the psycho in me
I can see it in my face, immediately
I can walk the line of evil, obediently
It's getting dim
And I can see my light leaving me
Must be the dark spirit's and they thievery
High on the stoop, wild as Congo
Visualize paint, elephant and army suit's
Don't be drinking orange juice
In the white jacket, can't get my arms loose
Even the though the nurses was
Indians teaching me Kama Sutra
Still tryna find the cooch on mama goose
Sinning
Looking for the zone off in the Ritilin
Cuz I'm tripping
Screaming "Fuck the police"
In the hospital catching on the edge, nigga