This is a song about "Colour therapy"

But before then i need therapy, for this parody, that i let get out of control carelessly

I wake up at the slightest peep, and my sheets are 3 feet deepi guess it's hard for you to see

Forever blastin'bitches ain't ready for this thug passion

Does all this mean i can't rap - the colour of my skin

And fake friends need some therapy.

On they twitter writing novels, see

I'm not getting no therapy

She going to borrow some money

Bending words between these bars is my therapy

They giving me pounds and thats of course getting money

And some of the stuff i tried to do they had never seen

Without you i'm like grass without the colour green

I'm sitting on this couch, wrist bloody

Maybe he needs a little therapy