| Eh yo, welcome to my world, please listen
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| HEY!
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| Poison in my veins, inside I’m torturing my brains
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| And still I try, aiaiai
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| Voices in my head, am I alive or am I dead
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| Alone I cry, aiaiaiai
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| Consider configure The shit that I’m in and the pain, I’m literally going insane
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| I’m frightened, my heart and my head have been fightin
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| I’m certain that it’s hurtin the rest of my body
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| Them voices as loud as Manhattan come chattin
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| They say «Who met us and let us in?» |
| and you kno you better than al of these
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| replicates screamin they represent
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| C’mon man c’mon man
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| And the people inside me say they wanna see me go on tragically
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| And it’s evil, cause I’m only 20 something working for a crumbs n some bread
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| The harder the struggle the deeper the trouble
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| Come out of the bubble, I’ll teach you to cuddle
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| With demons inside me, what demon is not me
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| These demons inside me they got me, they stop me from sleepin
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| And eatin and keepin it even, and even my reason for breathin this season
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| Sleetin in a danger, my nose when I’m readin, it’s bleedin on paper
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| It’s bleedin on paper
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| And I’m tired of this violence, so tortured inside? |
| ain’t akward and overly
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| open inside, have I already died
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| Has mom already cried? |
| And why do I feel like I’m over this life
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| I’m not hateful, I’m grateful, my girlfriend is tasteful, livin it up
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| I might even blow, like a leak in a truck, with a torch and a clutch
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| And explosion that leaves a whole coughin off dust, and the people
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| Inside me saying, they wanna see me go tragically
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| And it’s evil, cause I’m only twenty something, working for some crumbs and
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| some bread
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| I’m still awake, and it’s quarter to six
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| I’m trying to write and I ain’t thought of no shit
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| I live with guilt like I slaughtered the sick
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| I live with shame, like my daughter a bitch
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| I don’t make living but I still persist, I could sell out but I still resist
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| So don’t tell me about no pain and shit
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| I was born and raised in poverty bitch
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| And I smile all the while and don’t complain
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| I’m something like Gil Scott heroine
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| Do you know what it feels like to lose a friend, again and again and again,
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| again
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| The bitterness in the killer the poet, the river of blood within the mess flowin
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| I’m the bitterness in the killer the poet, the river of the blood will keep on
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| flowin
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| People inside me say, the wanna see me go on tragically
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| And it’s evil, it’s evil, cause I’m only twenty something working for a crumb
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| or some bread or nothin |