I wish you were there when i was 6 to make the pain stop
I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not
So don't be acting shyi run my fingers through your hairthen i lay you on the bed
Of willing to aim, a gun, to your forehead, its not fun, to wish you were dead.
On the sofa, poppin' bottles, at the same damn time
I saw you for the last time, eyes gazing at mine
Chasing money in the city of crime
You wish your bars were as hard as mine
Via niggas rep spreading speeches through the city
I wish mine was here, always looking over me
Ben baller, six bottles, talk with such expensive slang
I wish drugs were never a factor, that wasn't my plan
And you wish your cells were sick like this
Your dad's purple heart now hangs over his ashes
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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