Lyrics:
brain
I'd download a bat suit
And then download joker
I'd download edward cullen
Then bram stoker
And watch him kick some twilight ass
I'd download david
to a ghost
Say hello to a ghost
Say hello to a ghost
Say hello to a ghost
(C) 2017 David Brownstein
sins I partaked in more sinning
Walking by some girls and called a "gay ass nigga"
Almost consumed by thoughts but sense of myself was strong
I used
Tre made this beat
If this nigga do his thing on my dawg I'm gonna kill him
Got some nigga behind that wall ain't coming home they gonna get em
Some
struggle so we jumped that hurdle
Iced out ring on my finger so bright that I got seen on tinder
By Linda
Oh see her
Gassed out like a beaver
You see
saw him at the VMAs, told a joke, he never laughed (um)
The rap diablo, "free your mind" my motto
And we all gon' be good if TreeJay ever hit
and what for we fight
What's the point of rebel in generation which captures heights
I'll see him in a future and look him in the eyes, blink
I'll tell him I
thing you know
Your son is playing for money in a pinch-back suit
And listenin' to some big outta town jasper
Hearin' him tell about horse race
show
Blinded by the light, you might just plummet through the cosmos to see Apollo standing and function before a board hits a high note
I take it?
him now but he got other children
Nigga ain't fragile ain't doin no folding
I shine in the dark how I knew I was chosen
Serving that gas like a store
Whitney's gone, by time you hear this song, she did all she could
All those women gave me superpowers, what I thought I lacked
I pray our children don't
gone
But she wasn't letting on
That she was grieving
She's bound to go
Perhaps she'll find him waiting
For his boat in some city far away
our children
Fuck where you at lets get this money nigga
It's time to come together
They want us dead they don't wan see us livin'
And they ain't never
to Him
Everything I am, 'cause I'm a living sacrifice, homie
Use the gifts I'm given to give Him glory
Ain't nothing new, David did it and many other, so
these fuckin' problems stackin' up, it's like I'm bound to stress
I could never catch him with his children, cause I'm bout respect
I should probably
the shit's all a trick
See, they'll make you famous while you make them rich
I feel like a cowboy, that gun on my hip
I put hoes on your block, like a nigga
wrong, then I guess you gotta shot him
That’s the typa shit that lockin' children in a cell
17 years old with no guidance in the jail
Drop it like it’s hot
Poverty-stricken and malnourished people
Washer women, beggars
Children an organ grinder plays)
Lost souls all of us searching
Never finding what we are seeking
own,
But they seem to pass me by and why I never know.
I know they want to take me, but when they see I'm Blind,
They always pick some other child
I had shown a great acumen for playing music by ear. My father bought me a small keyboard that was maybe like one or two, maybe three octaves. And I
mother, yo, I shot and killed him
Is that what you want to get across to the children?
I guess you're not gonna be happy til it's for real
Four year
broke
We gon' leave him
Broke my boy some demons
Hope life get to cleanin
Make his ass swallow bullets
Same way bitches swallow semen
Real G ain't gon'
thing you know
Your son is playing for money in a pinch-back suit
And listenin' to some big outta town jasper
Hearin' him tell about horse race
on lunch boxes
Worshiping David Cassidy
Yeah I mooned him once on Donna's box
She's still in recovery
Sleep-overs Beene's got some pot
You're only
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