Short Race - GZA/Genius

He’s running in a short race, shoelace untied

Head down, facial expression he can’t hide

Kid with no direction, seems confused

A victim who spent years, being abused

His moms a drug addict, she has a bug habit

Was a seven day event, since she celebrated the Sabbath

But she back slid, or that’s what the crack did

She used to shoot up, under her sleeves, the track hid

A long time ago, the father left the picture

And as time went on, he was erased from the scripture

The son, he don’t have much to treasure

And these kids that be getting on him, they do it for pleasure

Demons are gradually growing inside him

Way before he ever knew the courts would divide him

A wall around himself had became a shell

Was a whole new person, by the time the bricks fell

It’s a short race, duck the court dates

The pork gave chase, we had to walk straight

You know the forte, nigga it’s a portrait

Or should I say a poor trait

You want to store very short cake

Estate, behind the gate

N.Y. State, why wait?

You trying to get paid by the lake

In each state, and do the shit at high pace

Under the dirt, there was nothing left but bones

A lot of tall grass around his tombstone

His mother left alone, her heart felt sorrow

No time to play with the precious time we borrow

They live next door, but he was worlds away

In reality, but such a high price to pay

He was easy to recognize from his dress code

Nothing but a firework about to explode

A short fuse, who was bound to lose in the struggle

His grandparents went through a great deal of trouble

To keep him out of jail, they even put they house on sale

To post bail, but the kid still failed

I remember when he called collect from behind bars

Suffering from two injuries and nine scars

He said he’d give anything to be out the pen

But it would be his permanent home until the end

Wait, I got to get mines

With a side of French fries, not kid sized

Sixes fives, I give off a pimp’s vibe

Is it the vines?

Watch like a sitcom

Throwing rocks with my pitching arm

More bricks than when the Knicks is on, I’m sitting on

Shitting on your boss, been written off

Shots I’m licking off, the top like a different source

Ripping this raw like a kitchen chore

That’s a block not chicken broth

Hold the pot with your mittens on

Dicks kicking in the door, and went to pick me off like a lintball

Jumped out the fifth floor it’s a pit fall

When I hit the lawn, shit it fell like a jigsaw

Rather get hit at the board, then to get tossed

Went to court, got shipped off like a brick of soft