[Verse 1: Denzel Curry] It’s ‘bout a young nigga, running away from the moon to catch the sun quicker Drug dealer, nino with the steelo trying to sell kilos and grams Settling angry stomachs up in his fam So if that silver spoon on your plate, if you touch that, that's your fate Don't have faith like Evans you got to face demons to get to your heaven The pimps is the prophets, not prophets for reverends, this is the lifestyle of a broke adolescent So here's a lesson of a teen who survived Rikers But shortly, his life had ended with a bullet that's made out of Midas Touch
[Hook: J.K. The Rapper] (2X) You ain't never heard no tales from the darkside You ain't never felt the pain of the darkside You ain't felt the burning flames of the darkside You ain't have a fucking name on the darkside
[Verse 2: J.K. The Rapper] Young brother without a name, he was in love with his nina trapped And steadily schemin, barely sleepin but dreamin Of pretty bitches and beamers, but when he awake he sees his fate And his reality to do whatever it takes to elevate his fucking salary Any niggas a casualty, kill 'em, rob 'em Then casually walk off into the darkness, it all started when he was Welcomed into our fucked up world, the son of a fucked up girl And his father was just a blur his life had took a curve When he saw his brother dead on the curb due to retaliation of the Gang relation, he was young and killed a baby And yet he realized the pollution of the nation Now he 18 life in jail is what he facin' Shit, murder was the case that they gave him Shit, murder was the case when they raised him Mind stuck in the all black prison You think he give a fuck about the system?
[Verse 3: Nell] Out on the gank, rolling the dank As he cased out the bank, he was catching that shank Getting loaded the stick, trying to major his rank Thugging was how he was brought in the paint Rush the security, no longer pure if he Still turned the coke for the love of the gold Bust in the air, everyone hit the floor Not giving a fuck, loc-ing off of the 'dro Bodied a nigga, riding in a dropped ‘Lac Top back, cruising them twin-tip fours So I went crazy, my vision got hazy I walked in the bank, and I start to get bold Clutching that pistol grip, the teller was Moving too slow so I pistol-whipped The bitch, he was twitching, bust at a civilian And blasted the mag with no mask in the buildin’
[Verse 4: Denzel Curry] Burn the fingertips off replace the dental Left the golden bullet magic in his coufie, no his temple That’s engraved, leaving corpses In graves, Glock 17 cutting fades Barber, we dumped the security in the harbor Then we switched the identity, so the name Leroy Carter The bank teller looking short and squeamish Steve pistol-whipped the bitch; she kept screaming Shut up, ho, before a nigga nut up, ho Steve said he couldn’t take the shit So he took her to the back, then Steve grabbed the MAC Then he put it to her head, and then he raped the bitch Boy, we gotta do a job or we might get toast 13 shots rung out and it left two ghost Tales from the dark side, Jack Moon, riding Trials and tribulations of the dark and violent