| So much smoke
|
| Clouds, my feelings away
|
| Inside I go
|
| To find all that I need
|
| Who can I trust
|
| No one, that I know
|
| Who do I love
|
| Only, ones I hold close
|
| I’m in the background minding mine
|
| Sole purpose is a peace of mind
|
| Even though I seem to find
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| Chaos in the quiet singin' all the time
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| Outta key and outta pocket
|
| Auto-tune the Melodyne
|
| Content of another kind
|
| Fuck you niggas talkin' 'bout
|
| It’s time to march you tryin' to walk it out
|
| The exit’s where the bitch nigga in you stand
|
| 10 toes in a stairwell
|
| You went the other way I wish you well
|
| Leave me be
|
| 'Cause weaponless on the battlefield you won’t find me
|
| You lookin' for allies and friends 'cause you won’t eat
|
| You fightin' the war alone tryin' to bring the battle-zone to me
|
| But you the one that started this shit
|
| So I’m supposed to be a part of this shit?
|
| My nigga where’s your heart in this shit?
|
| You only pop out when the dust settles and dust off your false medals
|
| While I’m in the field they can find me when the sun set and laid the fuck out
|
| in
|
| So much smoke
|
| Clouds, my feelings away
|
| Inside I go
|
| To find all that I need
|
| Who can I trust
|
| No one, that I know
|
| Who do I love
|
| Only, ones I hold close
|
| So much smoke
|
| Clouds, my feelings away
|
| Inside I go
|
| To find all that I need
|
| Who can I trust
|
| No one, that I know
|
| Who do I love
|
| Only, ones I hold close
|
| Yea, how paranoia make you feel like you was in a cell
|
| Underwater dissolving all my emotions like a pill
|
| Tryna kill my pain and all my ills
|
| All the thrills is gone, all the skill’s been shown
|
| All the venom injected paralysis got my right leg stiff
|
| Tryna kick the habit and not trust her
|
| In love with my wife but this music keep me lustin'
|
| The only thing that gives release unless I’m bustin'
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| Revenge is somethin' I keep close like first cousins
|
| I smile when I shake a few hands but I don’t feel nothin'
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| Keep a just as close, you ain’t got no manners?
|
| I make bodies disappear like abracadabra, poof
|
| Black excellence I’m living proof
|
| All the cars bullet-proof, I ain’t ready for my last suit
|
| Spacin' out as I reflect, mind goes in orbit
|
| And only spare the honesty, I hope y’all absorb it
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| I don’t trust you niggas |