Voices

Been through so much pain and suffering

Media players, style is buffering
In other words, slow, your style ain't touching him
Connect gang, boy, my style is but a dim
Trying to get a loaf of bread and butter them
Whip my dick out and piss in front of them
Cash in the safe, the trees be in the bin
Spartacus style, take down a hundred men
Phone a friend, wish death like many men
Money many, mics I rip on the daily

So much of y'all, Barnum and Bailey
Swallow that, born and raised in the belly
My phone tapped, hearing voices on the celly
Carry the cross, they tryna nail me
Try and fail me, made the wrong choices
I'm hearing noises, so much voices

Been through so much cups of Hennessy
Soaked in, smoked in all of me
Tried to find the meaning, searching for peace
Walking the cold sands in the dark on the beach
Part three, missed the first and the sequel
All this gasoline in me, and blowing diesel

Hard to keep real when niggas keep bills
Trying to keep climbing up, up the steep hill
Hold on to the faith, keep a stash of evils
Hands up, everybody face on the ground

Voices in my head telling me amounts
Telling me crash like dummies wild out
Them niggas on TV, all styling out
Fluctuating thoughts, 'bout to foul out
Help me