Soul Doubt

Sold out shows, but I don't believe in souls

So I doubt these shows' gonna leave me feelin' whole, a couple blunts

I blow and now I'm idolized, a role model, that'll get 'em to

Get me to model clothes I'd rather snort up Roxy's till that

Dope bottle rattles nope, I'm not about to tackle yet

Another problem I'll have to put this one at the bottom

I feel like fuckin' Sodom and Gomorrah, but life is sweet

Another black petal fallin' down right at my fuckin' feet

Another flower rotten a bouquet of efforts sour scents are

Hauntin' my defeat (Sold out funeral, no live nation fee)

Captivate hundred thousand  people, still me and the reaper me

The hundred thousand want to meet me, I hope they'll let me be

I'm able to paint a picture most people can't even see

Basquiat mixed with Monet when that heroin in me

Self-critic that's speakin' in cryptic, defyin' the laws of physics

Let me be specific, sadistic, Mr. Pessimistic

Slickity sloth, the motherfucker they call the Anti-Christ

Used to dream of fans chantin', screamin' the $uicide, now I

Get on Instagram and they're postin' my personal life

I promise it's not what it seems, climb up just to fall down a stream

(Drag me to the river, the richer I get, the worse my liver gets)

(No strippers on my zipper, still in my room, keep it dark as I can)

Remember scrapin' up change just for cigarettes

Immortalized suicide, no, they won't forget