I remember back when we were freshly broke up...
Acting Acid Testy, damn, long before we woke up...
Catalogued our conquests right here in the ExFiles...
Saturated with Sake Bombs...
Slurring like a deaf child...
I could barely hear myself, let alone Helias...
When he said that he would die soon
I told him to be quiet...
And then we went on to rage like it was the L.A. riots...
Passing out on interstates and desecrating Hybrids...
Getting tats of baseball bats underneath our eyelids...
While fakin' the funk like we're riverboat pilots...
It was just a fast life that taught us both to laugh right
in the face of those that thought we didn't rap right...
Most of it was opposed to ourselves...at war with ourselves
Lousy girls in a hollow world...
Broke, Bored, In poor health...
And every back door just a trap door to hell...
Where we ran from ourselves, straight into flaming wells
of Dante's Inferno-like proportions...
Scorchin' status quo-ish torchins with these Gorchens
To procrastinate or masturbate? We could not afford it
With no day job to support this
Life of pretending that his Jeep and my CRV
were a couple of Porsches...
Valet? That jurnts still so mutherfin' gorgeous...
Like Jasmine and Christina Bereolos, D Payne
and all the other Fresh Horses...

That stoked our flames like trains
and set us on new courses...

It was the ExFiles, Baby...
Rollin' with our ladies even if they be shady...
Jenny Weir and J.V.
Jessica Valentino, like 'Hey LAAADIES!!!'

During that brief grace period before all the hating
with damn drum machines as our playthings
Beat Paintings...TDB and Dr. Monster Machine Magnet...
Crawled out the dumpster...uttered 'AY CARUMBA!'
and thanked my benign Creator I didn't die like La Bamba
No drama! We left that depression to Obama...
Back in '06 the Doc and I built up some bold Karma
and beguiled the block like hippy, gypsy, snake charmers
Disarmed em with guitars before we Steak Tar-Tar-ed 'em
With Oscar-worthy performances
like Tommy Lee and Bardem.
Told them and their friends, 'Ain't no country for old men'
and like that the Texas planes became Frozen...

And even in hell we were anointed, awoken,
Chosen to write the record no one had of yet recorded...
So we kept pushin'...thinkin' we would make it
to One Eyed Willy's treasure as long as we didn't say shit
Some Peter Pan shit...slight of hand shit...
Hourglass sand shit...
Time ran out quick...
And we were back to the chalkboard...
Wonderin why God gave us this loaded glock for...
This bulbous cock for...

The postman rang twice but no one got the door...
Death sent us a text...but it got detoured...
Due to a freak surge from a rogue satellite...
Suddenly it's the final of Lost and we saw The Light...
Before The Love-Cycle and Michael lost his life...
and left me with nothin' but these beats and the strife...
Suicide is so trife but I still love you Mike...
Even though if you were here I'd probably hug you
and then slug you like...

'HOW DARE YOU FUCKIN' GO OFF AND DIE!!!'