Notebook
Strip me of my freedom, toss my vice I don't really need them, judge acting like Jesus, c.o. Looking for a reason, to extract the strength that he see within, young man beat to a pulp, tossed in the hole till a nigga heal up, and the scab peal up, when the scabs heal up, all the wounds stayed, mama jewel frayed, engraved hate in my heart, which swayed from the start, because it was love that made me, all the love she gave me, I love that lady, how did I end up like this though, impediment of darkness but I shine bright like disco, excuse me if I miss spoke, but I don't usually be on my mics when I'm this blowed, but I swear to god when this blow, I'ma make a holiday for my big bro, be really missing my big bro, then I get hot, type of heat that turn shit cold, which kinda explains the frostbite my heart is, but I ain't trying to point fingers to negate the size my part is, even though I walk around like I'm flawless, it's just the opposite, fuck how the optics is, we grow up fast but we die-ing young, shoot the gun, get shot can't hold they tongue, it's fucked up because the game is arranged to lose, especially when you the only one playing by the rules, especially expected to fix a car and ain't got the tools, or the know how and no one there to help you through, people say they love me, when will they learn, not use it as a noun, because it's a action word, I try to get through life and not act disturbed, use my fist as a shield so that it's gets deferred, be punching niggas in they fucking face, display of strength, in the weakest way
Autor(es): Lionel Bradley
