Lyrics

Dead inside,
I’ve died,
lost inside a paradise,
lost inside a circus ride,
lost inside this twisted mind,
spinning round, falling side to side,
intoxication rules over life,
either by substance or serotonin,
or dopamine, adrenaline,
hydrochloride mixed with Thorazine,
give it to me, please,
let this miserable existence cease,
set the phoenix free,
I stared at the laser, directly,
like I’m supposed to be afraid of a machine,
the machine is man-made,
understand if I’m handed some dog shit, I’m still making lemonade,
simply,
sugar-filled like diabetes,
never been one to eat some Wheaties,
fuck a moat,
fuck a boat,
fuck a sailor and the captain both,
with the same pole,
alternate between the starboard and poop deck holes,
haha,
on Madden 25 throwing a Philly Special with an 84 Rated Nick Foles,
intercepted for a pick 6,
story of my life bro…
I tried to play football and got blown away playing too loose of a zone,
so I switched to hoops and soccer so people'd stop doubting if I can hit a deep shot from the middle of the field bro,
I don’t want to take a shot unless you took from me something I cherish deep within my soul,
and I can promise you,
if you did that, my friends are putting you within that hole,
and yes,
I mean ad seg in whatever location I decide you’re gonna go,
Angola? oh?
Maybe reopen Guantanamo,
fuck it, you touch my precious ones and ain’t a place safe from being called a home,
that’s not a threat it’s a direct message to whoever needs to hear it,
Ava killed Young Hawk, took the feathers and put them in her ass so her fluffy looks the part, yooo,
that’s disgusting,
that’s the tip of the iceberg,
I’ll get bent over a hotel porch by sharks in a catfish suit,
act like I didn’t know when really I do,
hand you free ammunition just to see if you’ll shoot,
if and when you take the bait, I’ll reel you in like a fisherman do,
and I learnt how to fish from a biblical truth,
so to test me or my faith is the wrong move,
a fatal one for me, imagine within how many timelines it’ll fuck you,
I write with basic enough words to make a Starbucks barista puke,
imagine if I poured 25% of my effort into verses about any of you,
I’d soar higher than most of the people you daily listen to,
I don’t like uploading my shit anymore,
that’s why you can’t spot if I release a new track, it’s hidden from public eye,
the only ones who hear the truth are the ones who seek and find,
seek out the reality of another’s shattered timelines,
you’ll see what the real eyes have already recognized,
which is,
anytime I let my brain rant, I fly,
and when I fly,
I look down with a green light,
click-clack like the sound of those warped and bent Metra tracks,
that I ride on without complaints about a sore back,
because I LOVE THE CITY,
And all the cities across this globe secretly been blowing up those Young Hawk IA Sleepy Keys tracks,
I got a family globally, those mother fuckers all slap!
from Iowa, at Kinnick, I hope y’all see me waving back!
this is me!
Ava’s dead inside
YEA