The beggars can't borrow, the record sales drop
If the world still the same its nothing else but the talk
Die motherfuckin die, hope yo' ass fry, don't ask why
Alone again in a broken home, but only the weak cry
Long as she come to me first
It is a beat, heard around the world,
I'm in the the real world
But i murder him first
I'm so intact so i stay sharp
Dark hearts mixed in with the good of heart
I cut my wrist and play piano cause i'm so depressed
The whole world with the fact that i am still the best
I got a spot for us all, so we can ball, at thug's mansion
Bout as broken as the home his brothers gonna grow up in/
But i have enough hearts to fuck you up in the head.
Fuck me the monster said, somehow the monster's dead
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