[Verse 1: Punch]
Yeah, uh, let’s go deep inside the mind of a project veteran
Raised with nothing on the block with his brethren
A fifth of hennessy, swisher filled up with medicine
Devilish grin, inhale deep, let the devil in
Compelling stories between him and his men
Feel like a rap cypher except way more liver
With intimate details, shades of a grey writer
Hit a plight of a ghetto survivor
Deuce five in his waist, impatiently waiting
Trying to get richer, priors hanging over his head
Serving as reminders
Ain’t nothing funny, his stomach turn
And his eyes burn, soul on ice
So far from Christ, he had to fight
Any disagreement, he take flight
No thinking twice, anything further and the slug’s ‘gon fly
Project mind, the choice, his life or mine
That’s a very thin line, tell momma I tried
Hood got ‘em sprinkling lines, Mary don’t get ‘em high
Something to justify the stress in his lifetime
Like why his lil mama cute face, nice thighs
Strip on the side and set niggas up for a time
Project bread, baby was three when her daddy died
Shot seventeen times and he almost survived
That’s where she hang her whole pride
That’s really where she tried to hide
All the pain deep inside, the project mind
Yeah, uh, let’s go deep inside the mind of a project veteran
Raised with nothing on the block with his brethren
A fifth of hennessy, swisher filled up with medicine
Devilish grin, inhale deep, let the devil in
Compelling stories between him and his men
Feel like a rap cypher except way more liver
With intimate details, shades of a grey writer
Hit a plight of a ghetto survivor
Deuce five in his waist, impatiently waiting
Trying to get richer, priors hanging over his head
Serving as reminders
Ain’t nothing funny, his stomach turn
And his eyes burn, soul on ice
So far from Christ, he had to fight
Any disagreement, he take flight
No thinking twice, anything further and the slug’s ‘gon fly
Project mind, the choice, his life or mine
That’s a very thin line, tell momma I tried
Hood got ‘em sprinkling lines, Mary don’t get ‘em high
Something to justify the stress in his lifetime
Like why his lil mama cute face, nice thighs
Strip on the side and set niggas up for a time
Project bread, baby was three when her daddy died
Shot seventeen times and he almost survived
That’s where she hang her whole pride
That’s really where she tried to hide
All the pain deep inside, the project mind
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