So what does this say about me?
What does this say about them?
Pushing back and forth
Maybe I never had any friends
Stabbed in the back again by you
And I'm left on ground just rotting
Gnawing, grinding, on my insides
Breaking bones until I'm fabricated
In your head I'm the ghost that host these problems
Inside your bedroom, walls of your apartment, cracks in the floor
Open up you start to fall addicted
You shifted, moods, everything changes again with you
Skidding tires on the mountain roads
Everything just starts to flip
I lost my mental state back then
I need to come up grind again
'Cause I know everything will work out
Not gonna flex 'cause I haven't got much now
What's the point of talking about you having money when you don't?
What's the point of talking about these bitches when your alone?
You're a fucking fake, you only hitting up when you want something from me
Like studio time, recording all these beats yeah not for free
I remember when we first met
You were calling me up saying that you needed me
Didn't last long man, 'cause every time you were fucked up on MD
Sick of you, sick of them
Sick of these drugs, sick of all my friends
Cut most of them off anyway
Yeah, yeah, yeah
