album cover
Therapy
127
Hip-Hop/Rap
Therapy was released on November 22, 1994 by Warlock Records as a part of the album Closed Casket
album cover
Release DateNovember 22, 1994
LabelWarlock Records
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM92

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Esham Smith
Esham Smith
Songwriter

Lyrics

Yeah, this is mothafuckin' Deadboy up in this bitch
Yo, I got my muthafuckin' **** Esham ready to kick this shit for you hoes
Walking on the flatlines, fumblin' with the razor blade
Rumblin' with the ace of spades, is where the wicket rhymes are made
Sometimes I really feel like I just can't deal with the pressures of life
So I walk around with the bloody butcher knife
Therapy, man I need some therapy, 'cause ain't nobody scarin' me
I ain't got no love 'cause no one cares for me
Slippin' it into to darkness, I'm beyond that and past
That, once I catch a flashback, snap and that's yo ass
Black Devil get a shovel, grave digga
How you figure you gon' kill a dead ****? You gon' kill a dead ****
Bloody body, baby bloody, man I'm nutty, what he thought
Nine dead bodies and I never got caught
Walk the flatlines, man I walk the flatlines
And dead body chalk lines make me walk lines
I don't sniff lines, .45 slug to my mind
Sometime I feel I'm on the flatline
Man I need some therapy
Fuck it, **** all fucked up in this bitch
I don't give a fuck about shit!
I don't give a fuck about these dollars, motherfucker…
Whaddup?
I'm havin' suicidal thoughts, brain cells dead from the coma
My aroma
Dead body rotten
Gone but not forgotten
Seems like you forgot, man I took one shot
Now I lay me down to sleep, body hot, rot
Got no love when I was a toddler, now I swallow bullets for fun
Playin' games with a gun
Hope I spit up, get up, throw up, mind blow up
I told my teacher I wanted to be like Hitler when I grow up
Now I got a mental Glock, got the pussy hammer cocked
Tick-tock and you don't stop make the pussy pop
'Til the break of dawn, 'til the break of dawn
Once again it's on, .357 chrome plated to my dome
Now I know you want to know about knowin' what I know
And if you knew me you would know that I be flowin'
Deadboy killa, guerilla, stilla, illa, chilla
I'm going out of my mind on the reala, my nilla
Man I need some therapy
Motherfuckers don't know me
Runnin' up in my face and shit
Bitch, back the fuck up!
Don't look at me motherfucker… whut ****?
So tell me what you think about the psychadelic
Funkadelic relic
In my maggot brain
All type of things happen insane
I can't explain how I wonder
Let me take you under
With this suicidalist, ain't afraid to die, who wonders why I think this way?
So we all got to die one fuckin' day
Ain't no way I'ma say I love you now
'Cause my heart's so cold I don't know how
Now you hate what you create, eicket mind state
Got a date with death and what's left's my fate
Fuck tomorrow, no sorrow, I live today
And I don't give a fuck about what you say
I'm going to ride this suicide
This I decide this, life I live, all take no give
And if I take some back then I must be wrong
But dead men don't sing no fuckin' songs
I need some therapy
Fuck it… I ain't got no love for bitches out in this motherfucker
I ain't got no love for no **** out in this motherfucker
If I can't see that shit, the shit ain't real
Ain't no love, motherfucker
Ain't no love out in this motherfucker
Bitches don't give a fuck about no ****
Bitches not even a bitch with a baby
****, you get a baby by a bitch
She don't give a fuck about you, motherfucker!
Fuck that hoe! Get these dollars, ****…
These dollars, that's what it's about!
Yo, it's that **** Deadboy, and I'm out!
Written by: Esham Smith
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