This is the way it goes.
Sometimes you're flush
and sometimes you're bust
and when you're up,
it's never as good as it seems
and when you're down
you never think you're going
to be up again.
But life goes on.
Remember that.
Smokey got his name
from a teacher in grade five
for coming to school with bloodshot.
Graze dies by year nine,
plays with his crew until
late night.
Cause home life
Filled him full of rage like J -Life
Fighting with his drunken mother
Sharing a room in a flap
With his three younger brothers
There was no way
Smokey could last another summer
All day racked his brain
for scams to discover
Till it paid off
His uncle grew plants under shade cloth
Within a thought Smokey
went lower than Adolf
Next he leaves his crew
but doesn't give an address
He doesn't trust the soul,
for him it's life or death
And he could really care
less about the consequence
Every cent of his spend
on what his uncle injects
And Smokey's done his prep,
left nothing a chance
On the night gives plan B's
and draws diagrams
He's even stole some of his
stepfather's Rohypnol
In case he needs to drug his
uncle's pitbull
Mission complete
Car boot full of weed
for the first time in months
Smokey looks relieved,
in a couple weeks
He'd have a whole new life
Before he left paid rent
and bought his brothers two bikes
In a few nights from moving,
business is booming
Smokey's got the natural
born hustlers accumin'
But now his customers
and crew hang at his house
Playing computer games all day,
blaze on the couch
No time for self,
or the peace of mind
he thought he might find
with wealth
Smokey's back for square one
Dealin' with paranoia,
beatin' like a snare drum
Feelin' like he's runnin'
on an empty spare lung
Sick of traffic hotter
than a fireman's red truck
Smokey closes shop
and buys a hydro set -top
Business goes on, as usual
Going for a direct cut,
things improve
He's looking staunch hitting gym
and eating good food
He even does a course as
a real estate rep
Only to learn work requires
a police record check
Oh well, he doesn't sweat
on the cards like plays
Soon harvest marks the end
of his disparity phase
It's been three months,
he ain't been seen once
He doesn't wanna look at those
he loves speaking in tongues
He knows what he wants,
but what it takes is secrecy
His mental bandwidths, a solitary frequency
So when it's time to pull crop,
no screw around
Moves the lot first day,
in multiple pounds
Then heads in town
for a cheap four wheel drive
A new PC and KX125
He's off to surprise fam
with 12 grand in his bum bag
A deposit for a home loan,
sure to make his mum glad
Rushing on a motion approaching
his old streets
When a block away he's shot
by the sound of police
Alation turns to panic realising mistakes
Oh no, fuck no, license or P -plates
Up shit creek,
down windin' with no sails
Desperately tryin' to recall
a mate's details
If he fails, it ain't a white -collar crime
Lucky the cop's blind,
hands him a hundred -dollar fine
Smokey pulls away,
screamin' yes under his hot breath
Feelin' like he's just crossed
Times Square as Loch Ness
Home safe, more bounce at
his step than Spud Webb
Smokey live happily ever after,
Nuff said
Pegz 
