Sick of It

Blade all on my wrist can't feel shit
I'm just sick of it
Diamonds on my wrist can't feel shit
I'm just sick of it
Blunt up in my lungs can't feel shit
I'm just sick of it
Scars all on my face can't feel shit
I'm just sick of it
Y'all talking big talk
I don't got time to talk
love the way that she walks
I'm pretty sure that I'm on top
bow to your master
This a different chapter
Running away while you listen to my laughter
I don't got no gratitude
Don't give me no attitude
Slap that shit right out of you
Turn you to a mystery
You don't know my history

Y'all think that I'm finished
Imma make you all diminished
Yes I know that I'm aggressive
I can also be possessive
Of the things that I love most
Imma bout to turn a ghost
Haunt you for the rest
Of your life
When your scared
Grab a knife

Pussy motherfuckers always trynna get up in my buisness
Keep on testing me you'll end up with a mental illness
Bitch I told you once I told you twice
Take a chance just roll the dice
Who's gonna make it out alive
Someone's gonna die tonight

Blade all on my wrist can't feel shit
I'm just sick of it
Diamonds on my wrist can't feel shit
I'm just sick of it
Blunt up in my lungs can't feel shit
I'm just sick of it
Scars all on my face can't feel shit
I'm just sick of it



Credits
Writer(s): Tyrell Clarke
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link