Need Xanax so life doesn't feel like shit to me
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I drink pain in glasses, pour wine over pain
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There is money around, every day I spend it to be at zero
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I don't remember your name, the memory is hidden in a zip-lock
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My stomach is in lysergin, fucked up next to it
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The barrel is loaded with a magazine, it has a loaded fuse
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I don't have long to live, I live how I want
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The bitch wants a photo with me, asks for a couple of minutes
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I spin the joint and sip evian
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Don't fuck me at the rendezvous, I won't believe their tears
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With me those who I needed, you are hardly the best friend
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There are so many stylish bitches around, but mine is better than two
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And we divide the plasticine into three fucks and roll loudly
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Clothes along the whole apartment, I select roles for bitches
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Marathon for the whole week, people are high, they need drug
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I scored on all problems, and scored three grams in blunt
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How many are there (how many-how many-how many?)
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Breathe in and you're dead (try to breathe in)
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Split for one
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What will kill two (bro, you're dead, hey)
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How many are there (how many-how many-how many?)
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Inhale, and you are a corpse (you will be killed)
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Split for one (for one)
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What will kill two
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The third month in comfort, I'm scoring to study
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People masturbate at work and live too worthless
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I messed up my body, only jugg in the apartment
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I have too many scars, but I did not regret at all
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Every day new faces, I don't care, I fucked them
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There is shooting in the area, we jumped into the lifan
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Your boy is on the asphalt, he didn't calculate the chiraq
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He forgot what he was talking about to my boys yesterday
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Everyone wants money and bitches
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I don't understand what is their point and essence
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It's monotonous, and their body will be gnawed
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When, after all the mistakes, they are thrown into the forest
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The dead can only fall to the bottom
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I'm wrong in many ways, but I know one thing
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To fly quietly, you don't need to show off,
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But everything is always not enough, they are driven by loot
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I will rise above you, I don't need their respect
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I'm just starting to press escape
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These are all my ways, no bad news
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I squeeze everything out of myself, fumes all day
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At work, on the block, me and my demons
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I give you music so that you know your place
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Write in the comments and say something flattering
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I stay in history, you stay in the chair, boy
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How many are there (how many-how many-how many?)
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Breathe in and you're dead (try to breathe in)
|
Split for one
|
What will kill two (bro, you're dead, hey)
|
How many are there (how many-how many-how many?)
|
Inhale, and you are a corpse (you will be killed)
|
Split for one (for one)
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What will kill two |