[…]my case was deplorable enough, yet I had great cause for thankfulness that I was not driven to any extremities for food, but had rather plenty, even to dainties.
The poor guide had been sitting through the shauri open-eyed and open-mouthed, intensely puzzled by the whole performance.
A seasoned veteran of the drug world, the Pyrex God isn’t here to water down his lyrics for no one. “Trap phone, gun at your backbone / Graduated from the corner where the crack’s grown,” he rhymes.
And after this death there is to be no resurrection. The old man of sin has ceased to be; once crucified, he lives no more. The death is utter; the end complete.
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