Portland St.

Never gave a fuck until you crossed the fucking line
I hope these faggots fucking die, middle finger to the sky
Grip the dirty 9, I'm the Devil in disguise
I'm that motherfucker always loaded, junkie always pistol toting
Rob a fucker for the profits, spit in faces, bring the ruckus
Chevy steady swerving, motherfucker I'ma die on purpose
Sipping on that purple potion, stealer with the sealer
I don't fuck with squealers neither bitch, you fucking with a killer, oh

Ran up on 'em like the Terror Squad
I swear to God my lungs are itching from the piff I'm smoking
Crumbling like I'm fucking tungsten
Lips are stinging, ears are ringing, stomach growing fucking fungus
Summon something bloodless from the mists of the fucking dungeon
Wishing me well but I'm hopeless, ghosting problems like it's fucking nothing
To my recollection you love me, honestly I think you're fucking fronting
You hate me and I fucking know it
Relapsed twice now I'm back at it
Don't give fuck 'bout bad habits, still cut my wrists and I fucking like it
East side, city lights
Portland Street is where I died
Mac on my lap, sit back and relax
When the horsemen ride, I don't never look back
'Cus the PTSD got a grip around me
S-U-I-C-I-D-E-I-L-E-T-O-R-I-P
Cut Throat, Cut Throat please save me
What the fuck you mean, when I can't save me?
Heron destined to the grave I'ma living zombie
Walking, talking, barely breathing
Frothy, floppy, bitch I'm fiending



Credits
Writer(s): Wolfgang Beaumont
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link