Sixty feet out of reach, hammer down every time. And we was gittin' it on, gittin' it on. Don't fuck with the stroker, it's 60 over. And I know that we was gittin' it on, gittin' it on.
Past regrets and future fear. Turns a boy into a man. Sooner than he plannned. All the same the boy remains. Even though he's free he can't fly. With these heavy chains.
In the mornin' it takes me quite a while to clear my head. And as the day moves on. I find it hard to smile at somethin' said. . So I took control priority number one and that's me.