prod. chai

i hate yo guts
and i that pro bably why im stuck up
im used to being braindead, lame, ugly and fucked up

it doenst matter hold it in this shit u gotta suck it up
quit yo fuckin bitchin its gon be a couple fixups

huh okay like whats the word
u ponder takin flight way too much like u a bird 
its absurd
the way we 
get inside our head 
this shits a curse
traffick in and out 
and the lights jus make it worse

they like maam whats in yo purse
issa blick that do the worst
i been down the subway smokin herb that make me curse
i could shit out 3 hits but whats the point
when u got dirt that going gold
not a single record sold

this corny clone shit getting old
rinsin keep repeatin
you a nobody, u stone

down to your core and the veins that through yo bones
you wont be remembered you a voice onna song

hatred is a tool

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