Too many thoughts
Iím trying to stick to the game plan. Make money, exchange hands but sometimes it is what it ainít man.
Corrupted head and some stained hands thatís all I have to give,cause thereís too much to take before Iím straight man. Feel me.
Itís ironic consequences canít chill me.
Itís ironic my living might kill me.
Iíll show you how to eat with no food
Still kicking it,
still no sleep with no snooze, couple scars but my ego donít bruise.
Always in some shit I just have one of them faces
I seen brother sniff raw till thereís blood on the note, even talking bout it got me numb in the throat.
Blue oceans erodeÖ
Iím so sick of my skin it feels as if my soon to be dust has my third eye in chains.
Thatís the real hell itís a personal closet,
6 feet under in your Sunday best kept from the worms who have no dinner and trees whoís roots are dry as you.
But before I feed the gardens I always neglect it, I would like to feel the walls of my brain just to see where the echos come from.
Because all this time I thought I wasnít alone.