Drivin a hearse, re birthed, through death,
I just play my part make moves like chess
But if you think a brother wants a kid, its a misconception,
So i can write about my life of sina couple bottles of gin
In a cycle of death i'm killing gyros
Everything i wanted never seem so close
Of a penance stare to a decadent to grant him death by recompense
Cause it'll never be the same hereso i wipe away the tears
And i'm a hit'cha wit the blow of death
I can taste the salt from my tears
Look around, fool, got a wall full of plaques
Wouldn't you want a brother who'd help you if you collapse?
In conjunction with the pressure that we're under
A stain on the mattress, so your dad is your mums brother
And attacking faster than foes can change the channel, whoa
I'm on a death row,so death is a bitch i know
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