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Chapter One: Destiny
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Jean Grae
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1
We begin our story in L.A
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Our player's on a mission: a mission of revenge
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In a small town, a fire breaks out
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Shots piercing air, and a massive killing spree begins
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Is this just a random act or sense of violence
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Or is this story deeper?
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Is there a reason behind these psychotic actions?
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Welcome to the mind of contract assassin
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Whose time has just run out
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And whose fate will be decided, by you, the listener
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Running like a bat out of Hell with blind fury
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Hundred-yard dash, smoking mirrors, eyes blurry
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Hit the porch bleeding red, seven dead, two in a truck in the back
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Scanning through the goggles for the Cadillac, left it running
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Swiveled my body to the sound of shots, cocked back
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And let them fly, bullets screaming, left leg bleeding heavy
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Ducking the sounds of the Chevy that pulled up to the lawn
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Breathing heavy from the smoke?
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Jump in the passenger side and hit the pedal?
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? ride, I'm half-gone
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Leather is hot from sitting the sun
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The chrome burning my leg? puddles of red
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Screeching out, rubber smoking, I'm ghost, the wheel is broken
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The door is half-open, my lung? air chokin'
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Sick the chase kicks this way
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I'm headed to a small town, just outside the city walls of L.A
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Destiny ridin', just a matter of time
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And put it all behind me, bullet holes and bodies
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Motels and lobbies,? find me
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I'll be inside the arms of fate hiding
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Can't run from nothing, I'll just keep fucking
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Search and kill, ducking 'til they're all gone
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Got to do something, can't just keep running
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I swear to God I won't stop the song
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This road driving got me bugging got me seeing vision
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This company dealing got me killing children and women, holy God forgive me
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Now I'm headed to save the very seeds of life
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? hands of time supposedly outliving my husband and kids
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They caught him in a Krispy Kreme on the fly
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For leaving the company without a reason why
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They said they'd relocate me to Hell, put my mama in jail
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I fuck around and leave them all to Satan making a bail
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Associates supposed to get me guns for these twits
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Found him bloody on a windy Sunday, deep in a ditch
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I travel from motel to motel, steal whips and kill
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And cover tracks, laughing, pull off quick
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Dump the Caddy for a black Impala
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Slit the neck of a collar or a priest
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And then a deacon and then I sped off east
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Reach a rest? made out with the cook
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Snapped his neck, took the truck and bounced and nobody looked
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Sitting in this car sniffing coke on a dash
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Tinted windows, Isaac Hayes blast, mind a million miles a second
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Closed hand bloody, brains on the seat
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Range and Honda and a Dodge Viper parked next to me
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The motion sensor lights dimmed well
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The stove lit, twelve butts, three lines, and one L
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Contemplating suicide, the drugs got my wildin'
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Complicated of the thoughts, the tears are flying
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I'm thinking Russian dog finally found the kidnappers thinking
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Wait 'til 4 then bust in and start clapping
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Should I go? Should I stay? Should I wild? Should I wait?
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If you choose to rush out the door now, please choose track #7
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If you choose to wait in the car and think of a plan until 4: 00, please choose track #3
Jean Grae - My Story (Music Video)
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