F*ck your cliques
You can suck my dick
Mood swing are the shit
When I feel a bit
Bumy and scummy
Yeah I ain't proud of it
I been making some money
And the feelings addictive
Got problems over problems
No way to solve them
I'm afraid of the failure
With support it might blossom
To a disorder
Lord knows that I got them
I choke on my words
And friends I have lost them.
Let's be real clear
I just speak real here
I need some big deals
To get me some nice wheels and
Wanna make big money
That ain't so real
Wanna live your life
You might get killed
Not from me though
People are just evil
Get chopped up or screwed over
People leave then just start over
Fail to mention we're gassing the f*cking planet
Can't understand it
Killing ourselves over barely even understanding
F*ck
There's a power to my words
But it's hardly ever heard
So I'll make it my f*cking goal
To come up and stir
The whole f*cking pot up
What you think a Potluck
Bitch this is nothing
I came up with it
You dumb f*ck