2 Gone
Truth be told
The truth gets old
When you're standing in the mirror with a fear of the cold
And you sold your soul for golden goals
And you hope the hoes, don't quote the flows
Cuz then they'll see there's least like 3 who think they freed the light in me
Scratch that
99 problems every bitch is one
Math class as a tweaker, what's one plus none
When your gums so numb that the snow feel warm
And your heart stay torn by a woman who swore
That she'd tell you all the colors of the world everyday
But you wake up to the sun bloody muddy and gray
But she funny to stay
Lovey dovey to play
Til someone trip over the cable and the game never saved
Go to plug it in another static screen on display
Pen and pad in the hand tryna get me to say
Baby I'm way to gone to explain
Thinking bout the past with a mask and a cane
Thinking bout the truth with an ounce of the green
Thinking bout the noose that she tie round her veins
Baby I'm way to gone to explain
Thinking bout the laughs that they trashed on my name
Thinking bout the cash that I got for the chain
Thinking bout the love that I sold down the drain
So wicked
The thoughts I call it an anthem
Sick with it
Without it man I'd be damned numb
All I got is this serotonin to drown some
Tell me what's the motive if no one around me have none
Look around I see people without it who got it
Not a single sign of the talent but heavy wallet
Petty with the product, let me smell see if you got it
God I gotta admit it, you not the shit, you more like vomit
Call it profit, call it conduct, call it marketing narcotics
Call it constant use of youth to prove the process of a mosh pit
Too demonic Holly wouldn't promise nothing but deposits
In the bank account for face tattoos and never being modest
Oh God
Never said it'd feel like this
Woulda focused more in school I don't feel bliss
All I wanna do is hit the charts go gold
Buy my mama a diamond rarri stop my dad from getting old
Baby I'm way to gone to explain
Thinking bout the past with a mask and a cane
Thinking bout the truth with an ounce of the green
Thinking bout the noose that she tie round her veins
Baby I'm way to gone to explain
Thinking bout the laughs that they trashed on my name
Thinking bout the cash that I got for the chain
Thinking bout the love that I sold down the drain
The truth gets old
When you're standing in the mirror with a fear of the cold
And you sold your soul for golden goals
And you hope the hoes, don't quote the flows
Cuz then they'll see there's least like 3 who think they freed the light in me
Scratch that
99 problems every bitch is one
Math class as a tweaker, what's one plus none
When your gums so numb that the snow feel warm
And your heart stay torn by a woman who swore
That she'd tell you all the colors of the world everyday
But you wake up to the sun bloody muddy and gray
But she funny to stay
Lovey dovey to play
Til someone trip over the cable and the game never saved
Go to plug it in another static screen on display
Pen and pad in the hand tryna get me to say
Baby I'm way to gone to explain
Thinking bout the past with a mask and a cane
Thinking bout the truth with an ounce of the green
Thinking bout the noose that she tie round her veins
Baby I'm way to gone to explain
Thinking bout the laughs that they trashed on my name
Thinking bout the cash that I got for the chain
Thinking bout the love that I sold down the drain
So wicked
The thoughts I call it an anthem
Sick with it
Without it man I'd be damned numb
All I got is this serotonin to drown some
Tell me what's the motive if no one around me have none
Look around I see people without it who got it
Not a single sign of the talent but heavy wallet
Petty with the product, let me smell see if you got it
God I gotta admit it, you not the shit, you more like vomit
Call it profit, call it conduct, call it marketing narcotics
Call it constant use of youth to prove the process of a mosh pit
Too demonic Holly wouldn't promise nothing but deposits
In the bank account for face tattoos and never being modest
Oh God
Never said it'd feel like this
Woulda focused more in school I don't feel bliss
All I wanna do is hit the charts go gold
Buy my mama a diamond rarri stop my dad from getting old
Baby I'm way to gone to explain
Thinking bout the past with a mask and a cane
Thinking bout the truth with an ounce of the green
Thinking bout the noose that she tie round her veins
Baby I'm way to gone to explain
Thinking bout the laughs that they trashed on my name
Thinking bout the cash that I got for the chain
Thinking bout the love that I sold down the drain
Credits
Writer(s): Grant Lalaian
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.