This is a song about "I can t sing"

Weight stand out like pimples and cold-sore lips

Now sing with me: i am gonna cut my wrists

Then never touch it, like your goatee it's grown for years

I dont sing on beats, i rap about violence.

It's slight blemishes and life system

I wouldn´t diss my own mum,

The one who can´t even show a real smile

When it comes to spitting that fire

I know my calling's worth like phone card

He can sing, not ripped apart,

Sing my song, i drink alone cus i'm my own

Whining and complaining about when you coming home

I can sing an be humble

Lady at the frank stand will

We can sing so sing to subtly sting

Plus big truckin too it's nothing