Heron - Portland St. Lyrics

Never gave a f*ck until you crossed the f*cking line
I hope these faggots f*cking die, middle finger to the sky
Grip the dirty 9, I'm the Devil in disguise
I'm that motherf*cker always loaded, junkie always pistol toting
Rob a f*cker for the profits, spit in faces, bring the ruckus
Chevy steady swerving, motherf*cker I'ma die on purpose
Sipping on that purple potion, stealer with the sealer
I don't f*ck with squealers neither bitch, you f*cking with a killer, oh
Ran up on 'em like the Terror Squad
I swear to God my lungs are itching from the piff I'm smoking
Crumbling like I'm f*cking tungsten
Lips are stinging, ears are ringing, stomach growing f*cking fungus
Summon something bloodless from the mists of the f*cking dungeon
Wishing me well but I'm hopeless, ghosting problems like it's f*cking nothing
To my recollection you love me, honestly I think you're f*cking fronting
You hate me and I f*cking know it
Relapsed twice now I'm back at it
Don't give f*ck 'bout bad habits, still cut my wrists and I f*cking like it
East side, city lights
Portland Street is where I died
Mac on my lap, sit back and relax
When the horsemen ride, I don't never look back
'Cus the PTSD got a grip around me
S-U-I-C-I-D-E-I-L-E-T-O-R-I-P
Cut Throat, Cut Throat please save me
What the f*ck you mean, when I can't save me?
Heron destined to the grave I'ma living zombie
Walking, talking, barely breathing
Frothy, floppy, bitch I'm fiending