作词 : Crookwood
I be havin' bad dreams about doin' bad things 
No money, my momma is gone, it's a sad thing 
And the devil is laughin, if there was such a thing 
You couldn't weigh my problems out with a human triple beam 
I'm all ****ed up, you might find me in the dump truck 
Gin in my cup, hundred and fifty on the rough 
I'm a tough act to follow, leave your chest hollow 
See it ain't that tough, heat that ass up with the ralo 
And hit the road, explode niggas with old vendettas 
I talk alot of shit so my click pack berettas to rip back your leather 
The world is cold, you could find me inside the bottle at 15 years old 
I was tired of all the arguin', fussin', and fightin' 
Ten years later 
I'm borrowin, adjusting the mic and 
Try'na make it through these hard times, tellin' my problems 
But who cares, everybody 
I know got 'em 
I'm upstairs, starin' out the window drinkin 
O.E I know this bottle really love me, 
I love you too 
You be helpin' me through my problems, killin' my fears 
And you understand when 
I break down you bring out the tears 
And you give me heart, but 
I just can't take it 
Shit's hella ****ed up, bad luck, just can't shake it 
Half way to the grave, half way from birth 
Try'na wonder what my life is worth 
I think I'm cursed [Chorus] x2 
I put the gun to my head, tried to shoot 
I think I'm better off dead, where's my kids? 
Make sure they ain't around, tell 'em 
I love um 
Tell 'em bend down on the ground, plug ya ears 
What you hear ain't nothin' but a cartoon 
A bad dream, your daddy, he comin' back soon 
In another form, re-born, with some great expectations 
I'ma miss you too, believe it 
Got dealt some bad punches, but 
I'ma roll with it 
Got served some bad lunches, so who can 
I trust? Got love and 
I don't want it, who's teachin' me hate? 
Got hate when 
I don't need it, 
I believe in my faith 
Diagnosed manic depressive, only learned one lesson 
And that's **** it, forget it, and let it die like the rest of 'em 
Battled with the best of 'em, they can't touch me 
Then shadowed out the rest of 'em, you can't **** me 
Might as well go 'head and let me murder myself 
Niggas got hate for me anyway, take it, it's hell 
And if I see you at the funeral, 
I'ma reach out for you 
That one up in the corner, give his ass to the coroner 
He just another foreigner, all in my mix 
Don't have the slightest idea how 
I'm feelin 'bout shit 
Cuz I maintain my composure, never tellin' the plan 
My brain stained in dosia, 
I'm tellin' you man [Chorus] x1