Im so sick of the crack fiends
Im so sick that this track brings
A little bit of joy without all the acting
Its a daily chore that im plain ignored
Im insanely bored with all these pain and sores
As I watch the tinfoil bring toil
Singe to a boil, put the syringe in skins oils
Just for a minute high the minute goes by
Sixty seconds of recollections with pinhole eyes
I hate but i sit when they aint home
Think about the shit get pissed and play Saints Row
They aint real folks, never call my Mom a parent
Never have a job its apparent, my God is an assailant
Attacks my youth so I grow to survive
Opening mind but closing inside
Money makes me angry till i choke and i die
Off of poems,that i rewrote,to cope with some pride
Talk of known,crack rock smoke, and cold dope lives
Hold don't cry, fuck these tears
I won't ever have a year where i had a career
So many problems, even as a toddler
Demon of the roster, steaming like some pasta
Cleaning these impostors Im gonna take there offers
Interview? you hate your life, whats into you
Just getting the job makes me wetter than an innertube
But fuck it you have a whack life?
Try mine for a change its their crack pipe