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That's the way it begins -   
you try to behave,   
yeah, you try to fit in.   
But when you rise and stand   
you find a lock-step march -   
no room for jazz.  

Born bad-   
with a slight-o-hand   
I go from jam to jam   
with a crash, boom, bam.  

Born bad -   
I dodge a sucker punch   
and drop a bomb, like Liston,   
on an animal hunch.  

I've been down.   
Yeah, I've spent some time downtown.   
I've covered sacred ground,   
soft and slow and round.  

I gave up.   
Yeah, I learned to give it up,   
thinkin' that's the final cut.   
But it turns out I was wrong.  

Born bad -   
that's the way it began,   
stuffed a young pink lung   
down a rank glue bag.  

Born bad -   
this is where it all lands   
for a bull headed, corner hangin'   
problem child man.  

I grew hard.   
Over time my scars toughed up.   
When gettin' even just wasn't enough,   
I had to choke my conscience off.  

I've come far.   
Yeah, I had to travel far.   
Peel through layers sick and raw   
just to taste and touch once more.  

Born bad -   
like a synchro-mesh shift   
that's stuck in third   
just smokes and burns.  

Born bad -   
with a cig-hangin' lip.   
A talk-back baby on a   
star-crossed ship.

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