You'll still find someone, somewhere criticizing him.
Everybody finger point in your direction
The door crack, niggas all black
Despising him, no need to fall back.
I'm the lost son of god in the new page of psalm
When big lips is in the attic armed with an addict's arm
I wanted a brother my mother i told her
Through troubled times, i find ease with my maker
Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her
Word to the wise, peace to the narrator.
Let's buy guns and kill those kids with dads and mom
You better remain calm for main terror psalm
Uprise with in and advise ya friends.
Stop it, i'm hearin' the comments
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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