As my rhymes flow through these muddy roads
my mind paints pictures, but my brain turns to putty yo
aint I lovely, so- today's pretty, not a ugly hoe
smoke clouds of haze...you can't be above me bro
i'm high on this cloud 9, no pain until I'm outside
crying in my house- I, feel I'm dying- it's about time
that's only my mentality, reality sets though
no fun, I'm a wreck- so, let's go
petrified, I'm pinned to these pills like pen-to-pad
"but their's better days to come,"- now when is that?
An addiction needs help- I second that
but my world seems dark like Men In Black
if addictions becomes persistent, do the addition.....wait
Coke to the nose, oh, call it fishing bait
Wrote to Mama, "Hey, I'm back in rehab, pray."
Cause if I die, my last letters on my last day