Gotta try not to look fake in fact
To get that backpack back tacked to my back, packed
Dead at thirteen cause he yearned to bangsniffed a lot of flowers, but how could i cry
One was my father, i didnt bother to cry, it was his fault it was his wish to die,
American dreaming, days of a heathen running up in your building at night
Thinking how to reply sinking further down i cant bear to see your plight
Yeah, uh, where's the love for the sixteen writers
On that battle section is a reply to my verse
Good morning texts from my girl and her friend bitch
Trying to give them light and a message
God calling the name but we didnt give a reply
Late night hangin out til the sunrise gettin high
But my dad didnt make it
A cold beast, nigga i'm the shit
Fuck it, they shrink to fit
Sent to a shrink, didnt do shit,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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