PTSD Lyrics
| Song | PTSD |
| Artist | Stogie T |
| Album | The Empire of Sheep (Deluxe Unmasked) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Boitumelo Molekane | |
| 作曲 : Marques Kincaid | |
| Verse 1 | |
| Rain trickling window pane whistling | |
| Pain gripping me it's cold but it ain't Switzerland | |
| I lay in a state brain fizzling away | |
| Stay visiting the day chasing the sins away | |
| With a bottle of Jack Daniel's 8 feet away | |
| And a lot back tracking I hate being this way | |
| I hate being afraid when the thunder sounds like grinades | |
| Floating back to '82 when we came under a raid | |
| They coming to claim the brave when the army invade | |
| Stray bullet from the AK made my momma a grave | |
| I am hardly awake running in undergarments to spray | |
| Harm me a Jake Regardless what leg and arm that it takes | |
| Wake up in cold sweats apartment low rent | |
| Dazed I cover my ears like hand free phone sets | |
| Solitude devours this lowly war vet | |
| Like Old women with no children and four pets | |
| I go vex when people today protest | |
| Like they ain't got freedom but **** it | |
| I know less | |
| I know death and cold Steel from cold techs | |
| And winter nights in prison locked in a cold cell | |
| Boxed and so frail dropped to the floor stressed | |
| scream the soul dressed in me got no self esteem hopeless to dream, low self esteem | |
| Its hopeless to dream | |
| Chorus | |
| DON'T BE ALARMED | |
| OR PLAY HOLIER THN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! | |
| NAH DON'T PLAY HOLIER THAN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! | |
| Verse 2 | |
| I know it's a lot to swallow in a song | |
| But whole volumes come along | |
| And roll by with no result | |
| And folks argue when they walk | |
| Like don't bother me at all | |
| I wont bother you, a job is all hunting for annoyed | |
| When they front and floss at yours | |
| Like Barbie dolls in malls | |
| Walking close to walls I've probably crossed the border | |
| Of lost onto assault, the war's tortured result | |
| The world don't give a **** | |
| So I throw caution to dust | |
| Rob most of their stuff | |
| They all sow me erupt but dont call me a thug | |
| I am just forced to get buck | |
| And Pour salt in their mug start coughing it up | |
| I am life's nauseous stuff | |
| A veteran, hero meddle with heroine needle peddling | |
| And it get even better than medicine | |
| People said that it settles evil lurking embedded deep in your shirt and the Medals mean shit in the end | |
| Breathe again friend the fires roar close to your gut | |
| It will cost you a heart just for you to shoulder the odds | |
| But don't be alarmed I swear being sober is hard | |
| One time I stayed a week without knowing a drop | |
| No neddle pop, no weed, no pot, no illegal rocks | |
| Two weeks of job hunting I am back on the streets sloshed | |
| Have deranged, past that stage laugh at rage | |
| That's insane cast the flame, mastered pain | |
| Memories flash the brain I collapse I am maimed | |
| Chorus | |
| DON'T BE ALARMED | |
| OR PLAY HOLIER THN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! | |
| NAH DON'T PLAY HOLIER THAN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! |
| zuo ci : Boitumelo Molekane | |
| zuo qu : Marques Kincaid | |
| Verse 1 | |
| Rain trickling window pane whistling | |
| Pain gripping me it' s cold but it ain' t Switzerland | |
| I lay in a state brain fizzling away | |
| Stay visiting the day chasing the sins away | |
| With a bottle of Jack Daniel' s 8 feet away | |
| And a lot back tracking I hate being this way | |
| I hate being afraid when the thunder sounds like grinades | |
| Floating back to ' 82 when we came under a raid | |
| They coming to claim the brave when the army invade | |
| Stray bullet from the AK made my momma a grave | |
| I am hardly awake running in undergarments to spray | |
| Harm me a Jake Regardless what leg and arm that it takes | |
| Wake up in cold sweats apartment low rent | |
| Dazed I cover my ears like hand free phone sets | |
| Solitude devours this lowly war vet | |
| Like Old women with no children and four pets | |
| I go vex when people today protest | |
| Like they ain' t got freedom but it | |
| I know less | |
| I know death and cold Steel from cold techs | |
| And winter nights in prison locked in a cold cell | |
| Boxed and so frail dropped to the floor stressed | |
| scream the soul dressed in me got no self esteem hopeless to dream, low self esteem | |
| Its hopeless to dream | |
| Chorus | |
| DON' T BE ALARMED | |
| OR PLAY HOLIER THN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! | |
| NAH DON' T PLAY HOLIER THAN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! | |
| Verse 2 | |
| I know it' s a lot to swallow in a song | |
| But whole volumes come along | |
| And roll by with no result | |
| And folks argue when they walk | |
| Like don' t bother me at all | |
| I wont bother you, a job is all hunting for annoyed | |
| When they front and floss at yours | |
| Like Barbie dolls in malls | |
| Walking close to walls I' ve probably crossed the border | |
| Of lost onto assault, the war' s tortured result | |
| The world don' t give a | |
| So I throw caution to dust | |
| Rob most of their stuff | |
| They all sow me erupt but dont call me a thug | |
| I am just forced to get buck | |
| And Pour salt in their mug start coughing it up | |
| I am life' s nauseous stuff | |
| A veteran, hero meddle with heroine needle peddling | |
| And it get even better than medicine | |
| People said that it settles evil lurking embedded deep in your shirt and the Medals mean shit in the end | |
| Breathe again friend the fires roar close to your gut | |
| It will cost you a heart just for you to shoulder the odds | |
| But don' t be alarmed I swear being sober is hard | |
| One time I stayed a week without knowing a drop | |
| No neddle pop, no weed, no pot, no illegal rocks | |
| Two weeks of job hunting I am back on the streets sloshed | |
| Have deranged, past that stage laugh at rage | |
| That' s insane cast the flame, mastered pain | |
| Memories flash the brain I collapse I am maimed | |
| Chorus | |
| DON' T BE ALARMED | |
| OR PLAY HOLIER THN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! | |
| NAH DON' T PLAY HOLIER THAN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! |
| zuò cí : Boitumelo Molekane | |
| zuò qǔ : Marques Kincaid | |
| Verse 1 | |
| Rain trickling window pane whistling | |
| Pain gripping me it' s cold but it ain' t Switzerland | |
| I lay in a state brain fizzling away | |
| Stay visiting the day chasing the sins away | |
| With a bottle of Jack Daniel' s 8 feet away | |
| And a lot back tracking I hate being this way | |
| I hate being afraid when the thunder sounds like grinades | |
| Floating back to ' 82 when we came under a raid | |
| They coming to claim the brave when the army invade | |
| Stray bullet from the AK made my momma a grave | |
| I am hardly awake running in undergarments to spray | |
| Harm me a Jake Regardless what leg and arm that it takes | |
| Wake up in cold sweats apartment low rent | |
| Dazed I cover my ears like hand free phone sets | |
| Solitude devours this lowly war vet | |
| Like Old women with no children and four pets | |
| I go vex when people today protest | |
| Like they ain' t got freedom but it | |
| I know less | |
| I know death and cold Steel from cold techs | |
| And winter nights in prison locked in a cold cell | |
| Boxed and so frail dropped to the floor stressed | |
| scream the soul dressed in me got no self esteem hopeless to dream, low self esteem | |
| Its hopeless to dream | |
| Chorus | |
| DON' T BE ALARMED | |
| OR PLAY HOLIER THN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! | |
| NAH DON' T PLAY HOLIER THAN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! | |
| Verse 2 | |
| I know it' s a lot to swallow in a song | |
| But whole volumes come along | |
| And roll by with no result | |
| And folks argue when they walk | |
| Like don' t bother me at all | |
| I wont bother you, a job is all hunting for annoyed | |
| When they front and floss at yours | |
| Like Barbie dolls in malls | |
| Walking close to walls I' ve probably crossed the border | |
| Of lost onto assault, the war' s tortured result | |
| The world don' t give a | |
| So I throw caution to dust | |
| Rob most of their stuff | |
| They all sow me erupt but dont call me a thug | |
| I am just forced to get buck | |
| And Pour salt in their mug start coughing it up | |
| I am life' s nauseous stuff | |
| A veteran, hero meddle with heroine needle peddling | |
| And it get even better than medicine | |
| People said that it settles evil lurking embedded deep in your shirt and the Medals mean shit in the end | |
| Breathe again friend the fires roar close to your gut | |
| It will cost you a heart just for you to shoulder the odds | |
| But don' t be alarmed I swear being sober is hard | |
| One time I stayed a week without knowing a drop | |
| No neddle pop, no weed, no pot, no illegal rocks | |
| Two weeks of job hunting I am back on the streets sloshed | |
| Have deranged, past that stage laugh at rage | |
| That' s insane cast the flame, mastered pain | |
| Memories flash the brain I collapse I am maimed | |
| Chorus | |
| DON' T BE ALARMED | |
| OR PLAY HOLIER THN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! | |
| NAH DON' T PLAY HOLIER THAN THOU | |
| YOU DRINK OR SMOKE | |
| IT GOES IN NY ARM | |
| PICK YOUR MEDICINE | |
| GOD! I WAS A SOLDIER BEFORE | |
| NO GUNS BUT STILL CAUGHT IN THE WARS | |
| PTSD! |
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