Cancer wasn't the plan, i am who i am, dammed,
Cause i got the burner in the hand
Must be the sickness that grows inside cancer patients,
Of hearin screams at my concerts, me all my childhood peers
I pass cancer through the mic, have answers,
Better yet they work my every nerve
Worldwide, but i got fourth ways, one hat carry like four blades
I'll tackle fuckin' fans on stage, i spread lyrical cancer plagues,
Walk like i'm drunk, swagga so uhgodyard trunks go around i got a bunch
Because cancer has the answer to every offensive and defensive punch
And i won't be lyin' when i say i’m a sick rapper
Stuck between his cortex, with a little cancer
It's like we both forgot what we were fightin' for
Will i die in my sleep or will i die of cancer
It's not a figure of speech when i tell you that i dumped her
Haunted elements and answers in the eloquence of cancer
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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