Produced by: Maxx 39, The Sun King and Jimmy Carter Clinical depression at the pinnacle of obsession Dressing for perfection before this cynical profession Excellent. Messing with my dreams before I sleep If I die before I wake, pray The Lord to wait a week As the tear drops splash on my cheek, I feel weak Where's the razor blade? The haters stay and crave the days and save the chance, to cee me fall hit the wall Moms will def cry if she ever got that call Artist material, hardest cerebral man on the planet Candidate for k**ing crooks over beats, I can't stand it Smell the flowers on me, nine songs in a day sh**, we make hits All for rolling blunts without the cake mix I play triz around the surface, it's hard for us No need for putting up a guard to bust, in God we trust I played ball, but kinda, put it on the side Music is my pride, lyrics dipped in cyanid In other words, I need a Bonnie, I am the Clyde Drexler, making a drive, the rocks going inside your veins Dope names, dope clothes we show No swag on the tags cuz you mad we flow Like rivers in Montreal, underground circuit breakers I feel like I'm rapping with a bunch of circus fakers I could alert to break your arm in 39 different places leave your tongue tasteless f** being young rich and famous A flare gun on rap, I'm actually running for the white stripe A nice price give you a uh uh for a nice life Tactics, half cracker half Spick Maxx rips the song like a bong but I really don't rap sick I like females who are thick with a nice smile I rhyme detailed plus I'm sick of that lifestyle And I'm Philosophical, ill as possible Spit fire k** your Popsicle a mill is optional cuz I spilled through obstacles