| Oh God, I don’t wanna feel like this
|
| Oh God, nothing that these days won’t fix
|
| Oh lord, I don’t wanna be like this
|
| My thoughts, pill up on my mind, no drip no drip
|
| I don’t wanna settle with the drama
|
| Rip up from my face you couldn’t kill it with the karma
|
| Seven days away but I know sevens a disaster
|
| Seven — seven — you should know by now
|
| Asking for a rollie or a paper
|
| Rock up to your door I make you rip it through a gater
|
| I been with this shit since I was 14 with retainer
|
| Billabong shirt and my kicks lookin' Kmart
|
| (Oi) You should know I’m gonna flick it like a rhino
|
| Seven days away but I was seven sippin' marlo
|
| Now I’m 24 burn the place up like a pyro
|
| I could spit a friend since I was sittin' playing Spyro (true)
|
| I can feel the recall, got a head of tin foil
|
| Swearin' on my jeans that I could hold my own
|
| For a bit of Pete’s sake, I should hold a switchblade
|
| But I never dreamed that it could be my fault
|
| Oh God, I don’t wanna feel like this
|
| Oh God, nothing that these days won’t fix
|
| Oh lord, I don’t wanna be like this
|
| My thoughts, pill up on my mind, no drip
|
| Oh God, I don’t wanna feel like this
|
| Oh God, nothing that these days won’t fix
|
| Oh lord, I don’t wanna be like this
|
| My thoughts, pill up on my mind, no drip no drip
|
| Aye yay, yung pup still back with the savagery if they want the drama
|
| Still keep on padding this broken heart with designer armor
|
| I’m on that war against spendin them so exotically
|
| Head still spinning like pottery, swerve right, just won the lottery
|
| I shiver and shed a tear thinking 'bout what could’ve been
|
| So bitter sweet, baby back it up like a jelly bean
|
| She graduated, so gorgeous I had to take the stand
|
| Head relieve pressure cause shawty she do it on demand
|
| Get up, I dreamt a lot inside these silk pajamas
|
| Sit up, I’m
|
| My liver murderous, happiness never heard of us
|
| Demons I cannot win them, bubble boy in the kitchen
|
| I can feel the recall, got a head of tin foil
|
| Swearin' on my jeans that I could hold my own
|
| For a bit of Pete’s sake, I should hold a switchblade
|
| But I never dreamed that it could be my fault
|
| Oh God, I don’t wanna feel like this
|
| Oh God, nothing that these days won’t fix
|
| Oh lord, I don’t wanna be like this
|
| My thoughts, pill up on my mind, no drip
|
| Oh God, I don’t wanna feel like this
|
| Oh God, nothing that these days won’t fix
|
| Oh lord, I don’t wanna be like this
|
| My thoughts, pill up on my mind, no drip no drip
|
| Noooooo — highhhh |