What's The Problem

I am a bruh that is hard head  
Just a bruh that lives to trip  
So much a thug on wine  
And it is homemade on my lips  

To some said just a killer  
Too much of this I be  
Sometimes said too dilerious  
I respond u bitches please  
 
If bodies splatter before me  
All I do is laugh  
Leave me alone I do ask  
I'm still a reflection of my past  
 
Though not now in a clash  
With anyone on these days  
I still live by the gun  
And still desire to taste the blade  
 
Heaven done missed me  
Hell was kill by me  
And it said it herself  
On me now I'm reflecting  
 
This is really the problem  
So to myself I do stay  
Till my time pass soon  
My breath will fade away  
 
All the children I ever knew  
Even this they understand  
They will remain the smiles  
The intuitive of this very land  
 
Popcorn is enjoyed of  
Though I can't slit my wrists  
That's just like rape to me  
I'm not a punk ass bitch  
 
Been shot and healed  
Yes myself I forgive me  
I'm not gone cry even at times  
God the father don't hear me  
 
Since the death of myself  
And the resurrection too  
Still look in the mirror and  
I do say awetly I aluv you  
 
French fries ain't my favorite  
To season and sauce them is  
Though can't get sex  
Still alot of love I give  
 
When my day may come  
Don't you cry on or for me  
Take tonic water with juice orange  
And make a toast for we