The Things They Carried - Billy Woods, Bond

These are the things they carried: duct tapes, thirty-eights, and nigga merry

To the toast, they that close, but now he ghost slow with the steel

Scully ran from the blood spilled, a pocket of crumpled bills

Sock full of crills, dreams of a house on the hill

The number of a girl named Paula written on back of a dollar

She still waiting for him to call, met her at the mall

She had on her favorite lipstick, she got two babies

Little boy is six, baby girl always sick, never seen her father

She used to visit but why bother, he caught a big case

Remember when boo got shot in the face, the same cat

Feds hit his place, the kid had a key a base, six stolen guns

Time he got tons, clock creep concurrent, home made hot plate

Of new burners, shoes with no laces, pictures of faraway places

Dog year, over the years, counting your shoe pillow, voice tears

A BGS spare for some kings on the tear, New Years

No hope, no fear, neither belonging here, letter from his mama

They just run into each other, his cellmate nickname Butta

Talk with a stutter, so he mutter, got a little brother

Out in Brooklyn, used to watch Butta get coke cooking

Now he g’d up, in and out central booking, didn’t no one

Notice them cats looking, ‘bout to get his work tooken

Step to ‘em on that note, little bro tried to go in his coat

First shot hit him in the throat, they stripped his chain

Couldn’t find the coke, and these are the things he carried

And these are the things he carried

To all my peoples, you know what I’m saying

Going in the streets man, it’s me next

You know what I’m saying, spitamatics

Hill, Georgia Forest, weed, Street, North West D. C

Fuck is you talking ‘bout, BK’s nigga, 150th and 7th Ave

Nigga, we here now