Walls are (crawling). There's insects (under my skin) Mu apartment's (collapsing). My brain's (contracting) Feel the wash, of a POP, drug controlled, reality!
I see you (talking), but I hear (nothing) Melting face (open mouth), 3-mile stare... I'm kirking Out Bookin ass, I hit the streets, for a PG county, crime spree
Rolling out to the liquor store, by Addison road from the seat To the DC line where I'll jack a car to buy up some more boat and speed, (and then I will) Burn up that shit till I'm whack in the head, and lace up a dipper for late, when I'll invade a home and pawn off the shit to finance another free base... go!
Waking up (at 4 pm). My head is (screaming) Down a beer (near Riverdale), but they're right behind me, (I'm kirking still!) Hop the metro, all confused, got off at Safeway, to steal some food! Can I, ever, stop!?
Spazzing, and choked up, I sleep it off at Jake's just to cry and get some peace of mind Covered, in vomit, I wake up in a daze and down some week old piss wine Puking my guts out, so much for a Boone's Farm breakfast Where did my week go? Why even try to crawl out of this mess? Smoking and floating, the Sherman-stick beats the last breath out of me Laughing and spinning, found lying dead on the streets of SoutheastTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
