Wounded Musician

I still love you

Huh, yeah Money don't mean nothing

I'm tryna get these racks

Money don't mean nothing

Money don't, money don't, money don't mean nothing

I'm tryna get these racks

Who trying to have my back?

Been stabbed in the back

Then I bled velvet red

I'm a wounded musician

Spare what is left of me

Of me

Of me

Of me

Of me

Of me

Of me

For you, for you, for you, for you

I'm tryna get these racks

I'm tryna get these racks

I'm tryna get these racks

Money don't mean nothing

Money don't, money don't, money don't mean nothing

I'm tryna get these racks

Who trying to have my back?

Been stabbed in the back

Then I bled velvet red

I'm a wounded musician

Spare what is left

I'm

Nothing to you, but everything to who is left

Apocalyptic to those who dare disrespect

I'm nothing to you, except when you're filled with dread

I look at your youth and dare I say it's dead

Along with us

I'm rehabilitated

But I

I

I

I still have pieces of me broken