lone +zoloft & gypsum (methboiswag x bleaky)

what else could i have done

Prod @branwen

Better things (branwen)

My best shit yet ngl
Inspired by @kggn

Lyrics -
Step in that bitch then it's case closed
Bu-Bu-Bullets gon leave em like drain-o
Least I don't talk shit like I'm fake though
Speaking my mind fist be meeting your face hoe
You and your goons talk a lot
Bitch I ain't ever gon stay in one spot
I'm making heat, I got no time to talk
Stab to my back, tryna leave me to rot (rot)
Fucking it up in my head I won't say shit
This ain't a pill but it gon leave you brainless
Don't even know bout the shit that I'm making
I'm working overtime trying to make it
Better, step, back
Empty my head put it all on a track
He talking shit he been talking that smack
So I bury that bitch in the dirt, I don't lack
I won't ever lack
and it's not like I care
cause I can't
and I won't ever understand you at all
I'm fucking trying my best every step of the way
But it's not enough, it's not a reason to stay
Every step of the way I fucked up
Always try, but I end up lovestruck
Suicide, my head can't take this
Do or die, serotonin's fading
I'm fading fast
So you can take another lap
You always said that you would win
But you could never face the facts oh

Case Closed (Cozin)

(lyrics)

(verse 1)
shoot him in his feet got his bitch ass moving slow
and i pop out on this beat but im moving on the low
and i pull up with the choppa imma let it fucking blow
if he keep on talking shit imma croak him like a toad
imma cover all my tracks imma make his case go cold
all these pussies talk on me yeah they really fucking bold
and if you put them in the streets garuntee they gonna fold
find a diamond in the rough fuck the glimmer of the gold
when we keep on growing all that glimmer turn to mold

(chorus)
Its not fucking worth it 
nah
that shits fucking worthless

Its not fucking worth it
nah
that shits fucking worthless

i dont even care what the fucking word is
nah
that shits fucking worthless  

(worthless, worthless)
THAT SHITS FUCKING WORTHLESS

(verse 2)
shoot him in his feet got his bitch ass moving slow
and i pop out on this beat but im moving on the low
and i pull up with the choppa imma let it fucking blow
if he keep on talking shit imma croak him like a toad
imma cover all my tracks imma make his case go cold
all these pussies talk on me yeah they really fucking bold
and if you put them in the streets garuntee they gonna fold
find a diamond in the rough fuck the glimmer of the gold
when we keep on growing all that glimmer turn to mold

(chorus)
Its not fucking worth it
nah
that shits fucking worthless

Its not fucking worth it
nah
that shits fucking worthless

i dont even care what the fucking word is
nah
that shits fucking worthless

(worthless, worthless)
THAT SHITS FUCKING WORTHLESS

worthless (wayza)

꧁༒•lyrics :0•༒꧂

w͓̽i͓̽s͓̽h͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽k͓̽n͓̽e͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽a͓̽t͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽o͓̽u͓̽l͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽h͓̽a͓̽v͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽b͓̽a͓̽c͓̽k͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽f͓̽a͓̽l͓̽l͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽s͓̽l͓̽e͓̽e͓̽p͓̽
͓̽a͓̽n͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽r͓̽e͓̽a͓̽m͓̽ ͓̽o͓̽f͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽d͓̽o͓̽w͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽o͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽y͓̽ ͓̽k͓̽n͓̽e͓̽e͓̽s͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓̽n͓̽’͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽l͓̽i͓̽v͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽i͓̽t͓̽h͓̽o͓̽u͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓̽n͓̽’͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽l͓̽o͓̽s͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽
͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽e͓̽a͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽2͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽u͓̽c͓̽h͓̽ ͓̽2͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽e͓̽
͓̽a͓̽n͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓̽n͓̽’͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽s͓̽e͓̽e͓̽m͓̽ ͓̽2͓̽
͓̽g͓̽e͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽b͓̽a͓̽c͓̽k͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽p͓̽ ͓̽o͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽y͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽e͓̽e͓̽t͓̽
͓̽h͓̽o͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽o͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽o͓̽m͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽2͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽j͓̽u͓̽s͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽a͓̽n͓̽n͓̽a͓̽ ͓̽s͓̽l͓̽e͓̽e͓̽p͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽r͓̽o͓̽u͓̽g͓̽h͓̽
͓̽h͓̽o͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽o͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽e͓̽e͓̽l͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽g͓̽a͓̽i͓̽n͓̽
͓̽e͓̽v͓̽e͓̽r͓̽y͓̽t͓̽h͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽i͓̽l͓̽l͓̽ ͓̽b͓̽l͓̽e͓̽e͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽r͓̽o͓̽u͓̽g͓̽h͓̽
͓̽i͓̽’͓̽m͓̽ ͓̽g͓̽r͓̽i͓̽e͓̽v͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽i͓̽g͓̽h͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽b͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽l͓̽o͓̽n͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽o͓̽r͓̽e͓̽v͓̽e͓̽r͓̽
͓̽k͓̽n͓̽o͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽o͓̽n͓̽’͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽b͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽k͓̽n͓̽o͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽o͓̽n͓̽’͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽b͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽e͓̽
͓̽l͓̽i͓̽v͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽ ͓̽n͓̽i͓̽g͓̽h͓̽t͓̽m͓̽a͓̽r͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽h͓̽o͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽o͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽l͓̽e͓̽a͓̽v͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽
͓̽h͓̽o͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽o͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽k͓̽e͓̽e͓̽p͓̽ ͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽
͓̽r͓̽e͓̽a͓̽c͓̽h͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽e͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽n͓̽e͓̽v͓̽e͓̽r͓̽ ͓̽p͓̽l͓̽e͓̽a͓̽s͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽
͓̽c͓̽a͓̽l͓̽l͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽p͓̽o͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽r͓̽e͓̽a͓̽p͓̽e͓̽r͓̽
͓̽c͓̽h͓̽a͓̽l͓̽k͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽p͓̽
͓̽i͓̽t͓̽’͓̽s͓̽ ͓̽j͓̽u͓̽s͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽n͓̽o͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽ ͓̽b͓̽o͓̽d͓̽y͓̽
͓̽p͓̽e͓̽o͓̽p͓̽l͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽s͓̽h͓̽o͓̽o͓̽t͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽p͓̽
͓̽p͓̽e͓̽o͓̽p͓̽l͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽r͓̽u͓̽n͓̽n͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽ ͓̽o͓̽u͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽l͓̽o͓̽b͓̽b͓̽y͓̽
͓̽i͓̽’͓̽m͓̽ ͓̽n͓̽o͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽b͓̽r͓̽a͓̽v͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽e͓̽n͓̽o͓̽u͓̽g͓̽h͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽o͓̽l͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽l͓̽i͓̽k͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽o͓̽r͓̽i͓̽g͓̽a͓̽m͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽n͓̽l͓̽e͓̽s͓̽s͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽’͓̽m͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽u͓̽c͓̽k͓̽e͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽p͓̽
͓̽t͓̽h͓̽a͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽’͓̽m͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽h͓̽i͓̽p͓̽p͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽ ͓̽o͓̽u͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽o͓̽m͓̽m͓̽y͓̽
͓̽t͓̽e͓̽l͓̽l͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽l͓̽l͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽b͓̽o͓̽u͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽t͓̽e͓̽l͓̽l͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽l͓̽l͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽b͓̽o͓̽u͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽d͓̽o͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽r͓̽e͓̽a͓̽l͓̽l͓̽y͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓̽r͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽o͓̽u͓̽b͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽t͓̽
͓̽d͓̽o͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽r͓̽e͓̽a͓̽l͓̽l͓̽y͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓̽r͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽o͓̽u͓̽b͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽s͓̽h͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽o͓̽u͓̽n͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽o͓̽u͓̽t͓̽s͓̽i͓̽d͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽r͓̽y͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽
͓̽a͓̽n͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽i͓̽n͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽o͓̽u͓̽t͓̽s͓̽i͓̽d͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽y͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽a͓̽s͓̽ ͓̽r͓̽e͓̽a͓̽l͓̽l͓̽y͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽l͓̽y͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽e͓̽r͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽n͓̽e͓̽v͓̽e͓̽r͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽r͓̽y͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽o͓̽u͓̽g͓̽h͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽r͓̽e͓̽a͓̽l͓̽l͓̽y͓̽ ͓̽g͓̽a͓̽v͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽u͓̽c͓̽k͓̽
͓̽t͓̽h͓̽o͓̽u͓̽g͓̽h͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽r͓̽e͓̽a͓̽l͓̽l͓̽y͓̽ ͓̽g͓̽a͓̽v͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽u͓̽c͓̽k͓̽
͓̽i͓̽’͓̽m͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽u͓̽l͓̽l͓̽ ͓̽o͓̽f͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽i͓̽s͓̽c͓̽o͓̽m͓̽f͓̽o͓̽r͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽o͓̽n͓̽’͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽o͓̽v͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽n͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽y͓̽ ͓̽h͓̽e͓̽a͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽h͓̽u͓̽r͓̽t͓̽s͓̽
͓̽c͓̽a͓̽u͓̽s͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽k͓̽n͓̽o͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽o͓̽n͓̽’͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽b͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽e͓̽
͓̽k͓̽n͓̽o͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽o͓̽n͓̽’͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽b͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽l͓̽i͓̽v͓̽i͓̽n͓̽g͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽ ͓̽n͓̽i͓̽g͓̽h͓̽t͓̽m͓̽a͓̽r͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽
͓̽h͓̽o͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽o͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽l͓̽e͓̽a͓̽v͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽
͓̽h͓̽o͓̽w͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽o͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽k͓̽e͓̽e͓̽p͓̽ ͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽
͓̽r͓̽e͓̽a͓̽c͓̽h͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽e͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽
͓̽s͓̽h͓̽r͓̽o͓̽o͓̽m͓̽s͓̽ ͓̽f͓̽o͓̽r͓̽ ͓̽r͓̽e͓̽s͓̽e͓̽a͓̽r͓̽c͓̽h͓̽
͓̽i͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽o͓̽u͓̽l͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽n͓̽e͓̽v͓̽e͓̽r͓̽ ͓̽p͓̽l͓̽e͓̽a͓̽s͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽h͓̽e͓̽r͓̽
͓̽c͓̽a͓̽l͓̽l͓̽ ͓̽u͓̽p͓̽o͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽h͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽r͓̽e͓̽a͓̽p͓̽e͓̽r͓̽

reaper (rezlaine + sunrisess)

i have no good intentions

blood eagle

prod: me
ft: @atractixn

**lyrics**

@1blckhrt
i cant keep doing this
all these bitches hitting my phone, bitch i aint fit
fit for the numbers or the drugs i dont know shit
talkin on r3 you gon meet my damn blick kid

all these pussies wanna talk they aint see my problems
semiautomatic on my hip yea i caught em
sprayed him down empty mag and clip yea i shot him
these pussies always scared yea i taught em

cant get out of bed yet im still making dollars
put him to rest, lay him down if he holler
bitch im up, yea my stats getting hotter
pull up with a stick like im harry potter

@atractixn
i cant do this
i said im useless
but im w r3 n we makin music
ive lost my conscious im still searchin
i got no options is it even worth it

i got problems, im usin magic jus to solve it
ik ur broke but its funny cuz im ballin
get a job n go to college, thas my only option
now i keep a stick on my side, get to moppin

can't keep doing this w/ atractixn

tired of surviving (st1cks + elu)

@reijiroprod

cnt see sht tears bleeding down
mit meinen bros bin out of town
ich spend die racks nur um zu copen
emotional regulation
ich fuehl die temptation
i dnt need ur information
bin designer ich trag nur maison
high so wie ein spacship
wenn du fragst wo ich bin und ich dip
200 on the dash baby in meim wip
ja wir crashen in der crip
half alive im a walking on a limb
ich hab niemals gedacht dass du mir folgen wirst
niemals gedacht dass du mich lieben wirst
versuche die zeit wertzuschaetzen
doch ich scheitere jedes mal bei deinem anblick
es ist nicht dein problem, es ist meins
muss alleine klarkommen
muss dagegen ankaempfen
gestellt bin ich allein
auf mich selbst bin ich gestellt
doch ich bin nicht drauf eingestellt

i have no good intentions

demondog7

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