September

I guess he's dead again Father forgive me for you know that I am always sinning I take no interest partying with liquor fucking up my system I take no interest partying with liqour Father forgive me, father forgive me, father forgive me, uh 'Cause I been praying to my God wishing that this life will last And I'm Praying to my God begging him that I don't crash And I'm praying for a light hoping that this drive will last 'Cause I'm listening to X and it got me feeling sad well Not really that shit just made me think And thinking made me feel feelings put me on the brink Of believing my whole life is in the trash or in the sink But I still can't open tp to you like a broken link I'm Lost, and confused I don't show it Unless it's in my music or my life's moving the slowest I'm not doing right it don't take a genius to know it I lay low but still doing writes like I'm a poet I deserve human rights but I'm getting left like I'm Oprah I feel like I'm floating in these feelings like an ocean I was high half the month and I ain't even into smoking Didn't cry at all that month but I was close to I was choking Who gon' save him? I ain't talking asphyxiation I can't lie tho that shit was killing me like Jason Actions I'm not taking I was just sitting round waiting Pacing back and forth my mind is an equestrian it's racing Our relations resembled that of Beast Boy's and Raven's Started off one way and then changed like the moon's phases Every day I'm thinking 'bout some new shit to stress over Overthinking over nothing over fuck-shit I can't function But have too if I don't have one problem then I'll have two Like if I don't have I then how am I gon' have you? Quit it with the lies so now from Ty you only have truth Please don't cut my roots if I'm the one supplying you fruit Excuse my black thoughts because my quest is to find love too Day of the Dead's a month away I'm thinking where the fuck's my grave? Surprised my friends ain't turn away surprised my hair ain't turn to grey Prize possessions I'm a slave to my thoughts and to my brain Mental state on GTA when you engage in foul play My gauge is full I'm wide awake, paid in full I need my cake But I was broke as glasses on the table once it starts to shake They don't like my conscious takes, they don't get the bars I say They prefer some shit that's flawed that makes 'em do the Harlem Shake Can you explain what it takes, to get a like repost and play? Nah, fuck an explanation I work on my craft from 8 to 8 How sweet the sound amazing grace of the look on haters' faces Once they see me doing good like Jesse Owen's relay race Look in the mirror see my face, thinking