That Just Isn't Empirically Possible Video (MV)

It's lonely at the top
All of my enemies have been defeated
The crown has been sitting on my head for too long
It's starting to give me these legions
Don't follow the crowd
The crowd is misleading
Stay solo
Surrounded by all of my demons
Licking my wounds as they deepen
Constantly feeding them all of my secrets
007, I got the golden gun
I got the golden
I'm busting
Open up the door
I'm at my breaking point
I cannot take this shit no more
I'm ready to f*cking explode
Open up
Knock knock
Here comes the Glock cocked
9 milli, pop pop pop
Oh no
Making a mess
My aim ain't the best
I guess I should clean this all up and go home

Percocet, Roxycodone, with some Xanax that I had crushed up in some dust (huh)
Elevated to another dimension so I got a limp in my strut (f*ck)
I do not care to be here or be there
In the mean time, it seems that I'm stuck (huh)
Swerving and crashing
That dying little bastard
Yung Christ, you address me as such (what)
Crazy little demon
They wave when they see me
Face tatted from ear to ear, yeah
Northside boy with a Glock sized toy
If I cock it there's going to be tears here
Manic depressive
When life is in session, I hide in a room that's as dark as me
Dollar sign, B
And it's still F-T-P
F*cking G-R-E-Y 'til I R-I-P