And I'm not sure why I'm infatuated with death, My imagination is surely an aggravation of threats... Maybe cause I'm a dreamer, and sleep is the cousin of death, Really stuck in the scheme of wondering when I'mma rest.

Life Will Put Many Red Lights In Front Of You, But Sometimes We Must Push On The Gas And Trust God

We hurt people that love us, love people that hurt us

The sky is falling, the wind is calling Stand for something, or die in the morning

Look inside my soul and you can find gold and maybe get rich. Look inside of your soul and you can find out it never exists...

It's deep-rooted, the music of being young and dumb, It's never muted, in fact, it's much louder where I'm from.

I don't sugarcoat it you'd die from diabetes if these other niggas wrote it

Let bygones be bygones...but where I'm from, We buy guns and more guns, to give to the young.

Every time I write these words they become a taboo, Making sure my punctuation curve, every letter here's true, Living my life in the margin, and that metaphor was proof.