I'm not Jesus
I'm just the ghost of a man once whole now a 1000 pieces
These dead faces
Absent from my pocket
Empty deck
No aces
Hanging from a pair of shoelaces
Return to basics
Don't f*ck with fame shit
All these rappers talk about is lame shit
Stuck in my head
Stuck in my bed
Stuck in a pool of blood red
Stuck wishing I was dead
Work a f*cking 9 to 5
Still scraping change just to get high
Dealing with the pressure
Not to fall in line
I'm fine
I tell em every night
But that's a lie
I want to die
Sprout my horns
Commit a crime
Still smoking blunts
Everyday that's my lunch
Suicidal thoughts keep my mind on the run
Waiting for the day that that call finally comes
And lets me run and be the king I will become