Psycho sedative. Type 0 negative Sick of this monotonous cycle. Repetitive Is this reality? It’s like “No”…then it is Back alley white snow medicine For the defensive addictive personality type Showing off teeth marks to prove reality bites As if all of y’all lack the scars that match But death is the bitch and that dog ain’t barkin’ back That’s just junky speech The only time I stop talking is when a belt’s between my teeth It’s a feast for the addict, a beast of habit Sneaks to the attic and seeks the magic that speaks back Transcribe the interview When I begin to use I can’t hide my inner views If music was therapeutic I’d have been fixed long ago But this is just a song you know
Like a sniper with a rifle and a life full of debt 2Pac fell off because he didn’t know the ledge Respect the Jesus Juice like a noose around the neck Mic cord wrapped around my arm during the soundcheck (one, two.) Oh, you ain’t gots to feel a low never I’m the one out choppin’ wood in cold weather The go getter, and I’m lickin’ my chapped lips I’ll keep on swingin’ til a disc in my back slips My ex called me callous (at least she called me.) Pale flesh full of scabs (bad teeth from the coffee.) Fat feet ’cause I’m portly (caffeine ’cause of a broken edge.) When they speak high of my music it goes over my head I’m travelin’ man with a gavel in hand And a twelve member jury in the back of my van We’re coming to a court room near you I can see the rehab center filled with smoke in the rearview I’m living with my big money. It’s my drinking buddy When I squander it I ponder if it ever thinks of me When my chips are down and my bottle bottoms out But I’m on the up and up so what the fuck’s the problem ’bout?