Fake Punks

God i don’t know
Been feeling depressed writing up songs on the low
With the **** and the bitches screaming out on the show
Got it, god damn, going up with the flow
Sitting in the couch with a pen tryna grow
You religious waiting up for god to feed you up with the hope
And i’m here thinking about ending up my life with a rope
My mind went off when i was smoking up the dope
God damn
Got me thinking about it, not again
Tryna steal it from me, fuck is going on with this gen
With this bitch creaming all over my face on the bed
Shits like hennessy, fuck off you dead
Or wait, start giving a head instead
And gag on this dick till you vomit the bread
And im her sitting get the work done for th stacks
I can destroy lives with a Mafucking hack
Damn
Y’all fake punks on some lame shit
Broke ass bitch got a man nd shit
I be throwing names on this game nd shit
I don’t do rap, i just rhyme nd shit
Writing up songs on the front line
The only way so that i feel just fine
Depression drawn me down upon this life
Finna end myself to feel what is like
Just feel what’s like, i loved you with my heart
And now you bitching all around me that’s a strike
Hate with the dislike, you gonna start stalking me now
Might drop the hardest big spike
Slit throat with a big knife, dropping out a bomb
Upon this song murder your ears that’s just like
Dealing with the wild life, fuck fake friends
I ain’t no dealing with a motherfucking ex wife
Fist you up right straight to the surge
I been seeing all this motherfucking life like the purge
Nd my girl here flexing up down with her skirt
And i got some bitches on my Dm’s tryna flirt
Im in love with my home bitch i’m introvert
Why you getting on my life just so to hurt
Don’t come near my zone that’s just an alert
Shut the fuck up or ima put you the dirt