Beat by Rock It Productions. Crazy track, give it a spin.
Push Play
Don't need a introduction, all an introduction is good for is for ego boosting.
Story behind the song
Don't You love it when a bitch fuels your desire to write. Well, I do.
Lyrics
Maybe if I flatlined and left this world
then the bitch that said she was my girl
then the phone calls would come more then once a week
instead of me hearing her on the creep
I sleep wit wolves, murder and kill sheep
should I, could I, so my true self, then I probably could sleep
all I get are nightmares of crooked shit about another dude fucking my broad
the same way I did her the night before…
its things like this that got my posted with barrels
planning murder having bullets rip threw tissue and bone marrow
god damn, god why me
I still sit here and try and see
but all that’s left is the flat line sound crying to me
Chorus: 2x
Why me god… why me is all I ask…
loading up clips to storm a mutherfuckers ass…
There must be a reason…
there has to be an answer…
I’m kill one by one like fuckin’ cancer…
I swear I’ma do it
I’m going app shit I’ma fuckin’ loose it reality, bounced right out the window
my pens open for business let begin slow…
try, try, little bitty bitch, say bye, bye
I’ll cut off your head wear it for a helmet and drive bye
your parents house saying, hi, hi
and watch as they cry, cry
you made me deranged
two bolt less of a stable brain
words are weapons I’m making your business mine 24 times after a rhyme
I spit 24 more times
until I literally start fuckin’ wit your mind
Now tell me is this a capital punishment type of crime
Chorus: 2x
I’m ready as I’ll ever be
in the confessional waiting to receive
the right air ta breath
I hate this bitch so much ghost are scared of me horrific dreams of knives
open here eyes 6 inches wide
my pen and pad is the only release
but the only release is a saw cutting off her feet
or having this cunt drop down a well
maybe even in the oven until her flesh I can smell
even the images in the mirror taunt me all the time
of tear drops, and assorted rhymes
of the happy times
time ta pull the plug, fuck this slut, flatline…
Chorus 2x
If I told a preacher all my confessions
I would never receive a single blessin’
fuel for the fire from the stressing
100 miles per second running
either way you look at your getting something full force gunnin’
and whisper in your ear I’m coming
