Terry Dill

They say old junkies never die, we go to prison and keep getting high.

Stuck in my head, a cold and lonely place

I stair in the mirror at the wrinkles on my face.

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Welcome to the trap house

Youngsters of all kinds.

Give me all your money and I’ll blow your f**king mind.

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My home is one of heartache

A place of steel and stone.

A Barron cell, my home in hell and here I sit alone.

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My big a** homie from the block, put the whole damn state on lock.

Lil shorty got his back, Carries to gate in a sack.

They settled down in a $10 spot, spun the whole town like a slot.

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It’s 5 in the morning

Your all in my head

I dreamt of you

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Spun out nights tripping on the lights. Drop a gear, twist the wick, tittys on my back got her hand on my d**k.

A hundred miles an hour going nowhere fast, my life’s story, this one & the last.

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I grew up in the streets of Bakersfield, educated in the pen. Homeboys are for life, Homeboys to the end.

I never was a badass So I learned to hustle Meth. The devils lil pawn selling crystal meth, s

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