Letras
As I spin in my grave I just sit on the train
Feeling like I'm outta pocket in a pitiful way
Put the pistol away let the critic decay
For all my niggas struggling making minimum wage
Aggravated I had to say it I'm that impatient
Agitated by the savage statement I'm glad they made it
At least in the short defeated for sport
Pleading to court a decent retort feeling misled
Deceived to the core trying not to eat no more pork
But if I do I don't mean to deceive one of yours
Let it seep through the pores as I squeeze out the sores
The thick mucus and puss it just sinks to the floor
I want to feed food to the poor and do more
Than I have in the past but in the past I was stored
Inside my head where the dread is absorbed
I feel gored like my insides have been unplugged like cords
And I don't know who to talk to in languages beyond you
I'd give you a walk through but what do you respond to
Images of obscurity certainly blur the lines of certainty
And tend to ring alarms too
On my dolo rolling solo don't no photos
Float but promos Holms is loco
Might tote the fo fo on the low though
Don't want no problems from the po po
Pope is postal
No rest for the weary interest in the theory
That they can detect the rest of the messages clearly
Don't fear me I'm nearly dissolved
And the rest of your problem sincerely resolved
As I spin in my grave seems like I sin everyday
Feeling like I'm at war pulling pins out grenades
Breaking limbs by the way severing what I made
As I battle myself I need a trim or a fade
As I spin in my grave I need a trim or a fade
Feeling like I'm at war pulling pins out grenades
Breaking limbs by the way severing what I made
As I battle myself feel like I sin everyday
As I spin in my grave I just sit on the train
Feeling like I'm outta pocket in a pitiful way
Put the pistol away let the critic decay
For all my niggas struggling making minimum wage