| I’mma try to spill my thoughts on this blank sheet of paper
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| Deep drinkin as I’m thinking straight whiskey no chaser
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| My head hangs low and my heart weighs heavy
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| I’m lost with no direction and I’m tryna hold steady
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| Supposed to be the big homie, 'posed to have the answers
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| But it’s my turn to be concerned I’m running out of chances
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| Scared of my future and the vision that it holds
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| Try to run from destiny but this is what I’m owed
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| At the prison foul living, I’m a straight up hood n***a
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| So it’s written, I’m submitting, but I’m still a good n***a
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| But I gotta feed the fam and I gotta be a man
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| This rap s**t ain’t working so it’s time to switch the plan
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| So it’s back to what I’m good at, push a man push a pie
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| Hit the road, bring it by, get to dumping wing pies
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| Get them fluffy green sacks, bring the whole team by
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| I miss it and mean that, get me where the greens at
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| I can spend but I’m drowning, ain’t no way around it, I’m stressing and I’m
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| losing my mind
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| If this is all that’s meant for me, then really am I wasting my time
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| Heading for them gutters, backed it up in butter, I’m a beast with the hella of
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| a grind
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| Give me death or prison, if that’s a n***a sentence, at least let me die with
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| my pride
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| Strange fans’ll probably hear this song and not really get it, or not really
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| feel it, or not really dig it, then that’s cool, I’m just writing this trying
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| to free my mind, of these thoughts that’s inside of me in this place and time
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| Plus y’all probably thinking that I’m leaving out my dreams, just remember,
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| everything ain’t always what it seems
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| Can’t believe what you hear and only half of what you see, so listen to my
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| lyrics, the message is the clearest
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| I’m at a crossroads tryna chose which way to go
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| Road 1 is my destiny, the price is my soul
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| Road 2 is what’s best for me, but is there room to grow?
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| I don’t really know but it’s time to choose a road
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| Let go and let God is what the big homie tell me, but God ain’t gotta pay these
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| bills on time, n***a feel me?
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| Stressed out, fighting gout, gripping on my bottle
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| Strong enough to smack a barrel, scared of tomorrow |