I be havin' bad dreams about doin' bad things
|
No money, my momma is gone, it's a sad thing
|
And the devil is laughin, if there was such a thing
|
You couldn't weigh my problems out with a human triple beam
|
I'm all fucked up, you might find me in the dump truck
|
Gin in my cup, hundred and fifty on the rough
|
I'm a tough act to follow, leave your chest hollow
|
See it ain't that tough, heat that ass up with the ralo
|
And hit the road, explode niggas with old vendettas
|
I talk alot of shit so my click pack berettas to rip back your leather
|
The world is cold, you could find me inside the bottle at 15 years old
|
I was tired of all the arguin', fussin', and fightin'
|
Ten years later I'm borrowin, adjusting the mic and
|
Try'na make it through these hard times, tellin' my problems
|
But who cares, everybody I know got 'em
|
I'm upstairs, starin' out the window drinkin O.E
|
I know this bottle really love me, I love you too
|
You be helpin' me through my problems, killin' my fears
|
And you understand when I break down you bring out the tears
|
And you give me heart, but I just can't take it
|
Shit's hella fucked up, bad luck, just can't shake it
|
Half way to the grave, half way from birth
|
Try'na wonder what my life is worth
|
I think I'm cursed
|
|
[Chorus] x2
|
I put the gun to my head, tried to shoot
|
I think I'm better off dead, where's my kids?
|
Make sure they ain't around, tell 'em I love um
|
Tell 'em bend down on the ground, plug ya ears
|
What you hear ain't nothin' but a cartoon
|
A bad dream, your daddy, he comin' back soon
|
In another form, re-born, with some great expectations
|
I'ma miss you too, believe it
|
|
Got dealt some bad punches, but I'ma roll with it
|
Got served some bad lunches, so who can I trust?
|
Got love and I don't want it, who's teachin' me hate?
|
Got hate when I don't need it, I believe in my faith
|
Diagnosed manic depressive, only learned one lesson
|
And that's fuck it, forget it, and let it die like the rest of 'em
|
Battled with the best of 'em, they can't touch me
|
Then shadowed out the rest of 'em, you can't fuck me
|
Might as well go 'head and let me murder myself
|
Niggas got hate for me anyway, take it, it's hell
|
And if I see you at the funeral, I'ma reach out for you
|
That one up in the corner, give his ass to the coroner
|
He just another foreigner, all in my mix
|
Don't have the slightest idea how I'm feelin 'bout shit
|
Cuz I maintain my composure, never tellin' the plan
|
My brain stained in dosia, I'm tellin' you man
|
|
[Chorus] x1
|
|
-----------------
|
Tried To Shoot
|
Brotha Lynch Hung |