Lyrics Hot HOT! - Syn Suitcase

I ain't grown with a mom and a strong brain
Mental corraded it farts out lies of small grain
I'm out of fuel to own up false pain
I'm digging myself out of this dark vein
And where does mom have a say in my life's train
Dad's got debt piling up higher than a skies plane
These bastards got a dome, they can't handle calm retain
So I don't sympathize when they hit a bong frame
I ain't the white variant Uncle Tom claims
I'm just a teen who hates on peeps who smoke palms with flame
Syn can be considered a fifth name
I armor myself with litter of smith blades
Syn's gone assisting with green aid
I say to stick with yourself and that keen trade
Six months eighteen a stable routine made
I regret what I did Tris and Mace my betrayed ways

Oh yeah- I got some betrayed thoughts