TMH — Boss Style

Shootin' tire, but the street still in my blood
Found pen, but the ink runs like mud
Borrowed meaning with the same cold stare
That made grown man crumble when I pull the chair
They see the watch, they see the chain, they see the shine
They don't see the bodies buried in my mind
Every hand I shook was a lesson in disguise
Now I read a man like books with my eyes close tight
Close tight
Moving in silence, commanding the room