Who?

Steppin' on the ceiling of the motha fuckin devils house
Knowin' I might die at any point I'm feelin better now
I'm betting when I go I'll leave a motha fuckin letter now
But now I'm like 30 kills deep like a tactical nuke

I puke rhymes out my mouth like I'm sick with the flu
I spew shit out my ass that looks better than you
But who in here wanna hear some sick shit like that?
I'm gonna hit you in the head with the back of a bat

Now is my music good enough or do I need more fans?
For you to say you like my shit or do we need to throw hands?
Cause bitch I put my whole chest into all of these jams
For you to say that it's shit when you have no fucking plans

Now I hate writing hooks cause I got too much to say
For me to repeat myself like I do everyday
They say I ramble a lot, it's like they just learned today
That I'm convincing myself I got a voice in my brain

You only got a fuckin' taste, a smidge, an idea
Of who I really am or what I'm destined to be a
Motha fucka who is on a path to better myself
Or if I gotta put my motha fuckin life on the shelf

I'm fast tracking that route when I'm eatin' like shit
Bitch I do it to cope I think I gotta admit
That if I loved myself and I really commit
I wouldn't wake up everyday just feeling like this

Like life ain't worth it, have I poisoned my mind?
Into thinking unkind about how I view my life
I should take a step back and just work up the nerve
And actually think about shit like what I think I deserve



Credits
Writer(s): Anthony Colwell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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