The Journal

Chain-Shooting

Somebody pray for the god kids I wonder what Michael’s the kids on

Son They jammin’ to in his shit

Rappin’ trappin’ trippin’ ‘cid and twerking  and chewing Vicodin

and partying on

[We] Shoulda died– yelling YOLO was a lie

[We all] And you liars wonder why you

[we] wanna die so young

 

You and I look live just alike

And I’m afraid that this one right here

Might be the last time that I write a song poem

Lot of niggas wanna go out with BANG

 

But I ain’t tryna go out at all

I ain’t tryna go out at all

at all

Got a lot of ideas still to throw out the door

want to live out tomorrow

 

Last Chance joint gotta be a dance joint

From an introspective drugged shoot out standpoint

Throw bands clips joint wanna hold hands pray joint

Old school for my own old man lifetime joint

 

Why toss my filter sister when she saving my life?

The same shit that kills us, always feels so right.

That’s why I pray to for the dealer, God [only] know [s] who he be.

 

Truth be told he

may have

juiced me introduced

met me in

humanities

to the lucy leaf.

Oh oh oh, I seen the light, I lost my lighter.

 

Bic flick, kick the habit and the bucket, fuck your supplier.

Lies, Levis on fire flyer on the wall I’m brighter

In the darkness of the night In the sky, I get drift higher

higher

 

 

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