kush up on my clothes
whiskey on my breath
my only prayer to god
is to ask for death
i still smell your perfume
like u never left
missin late nights
u leaving hickeys on my neck
empty bottle
numbing all the pain
wake up in the morning
circumstance is still the same
I’m having trouble trying maintain
sanity inside my damn brain
fuck a bitch and then i get paid
they wonder why I’m so lonely
they wonder why I’m so lonely
wonder why I’m so cold
cause ion need no help
bitch i do it all on my own
doing numbers you’ll never see
this aint no hobby its a part of me
see theirs a lot of snakes
that going slither through the game
try and take advantage of your lil bit of fame
thats why i don’t work
unless I’m mother fucking paid
young kid with some intuition
listen what i say
they told me i could never be
everything that i am now
all i got is room to grow
cause theres no more breaking me down
been at the bottom to long
harbor emotion 2 put it in songs
you think you know me
you got it all wrong