The other side of my membrane is going berserk
Is it my psychosis or flooding on the sizzurp
I don't know, I can't think
My mind's gone, I can't blink
It makes sense if you think of it
My mother knows, she intuitive
Where is the God that I can trust?
Where is the girl that I can bust?
Where is the notepad it is a must
Wanna ride cars, get tired of the bus
Like a hemorrhoid, it's pain to my bu*t
Like paper to scissors, I'm tired of being cut
I'm playing safety, have no time to rush
A contradiction, but I don't give a f**
That's right, I don't give a f**
Another word filler for the rest of this smut
Searching for the clover without any luck
Pippi Longstocking would not give it up
So I have no choice but cross seven seas
To find the sensation that claims the bee's knees
I become malignant like disease of the cancer
Playing second bananas to the n***a ahead of Prancer
Mellow dramatic, but flows are being crafted
Mathematical when I serving these tangents
A full house of women like I'm Bob Saget
Supplying me with routine to support my habits
Rocking my adidas while doing the cabbage patch
A clever MC that is within their habitat
What you called negativity I call creativity
More important than the scene at the nativity
What will happen at my 32 years?
Not acting like Forrest running away from my fears
Sometimes life can really grind my gears
Stay in my lane and always switching gears
The tank is on E, but I am staying focus
To another state of mind of my psychosis