Outta There like Tim Robbins

Creeping creeping creeping
Crawling crawling crawling
Itching for a blunt in my coffin
Pulled out the blade, acting hard but now you soften
Crawling out the grave I do it often
Creeping creeping creeping
Crawling crawling crawling
Itching for a blunt in my coffin
Steady out of breath, these woods must be the causing
If there's beef, no I'm never squashing

Bitches fiend for me, me I'm fiending for the dope
No matter where I be, eyes read like a scope
Can't settle for less, always knew I needed more
They go out to bars, sipping, sniffing lines of cock

I can't partake in none of yo bullshit
Bunch of suckers gather round actin like they cool shit
Rather ride solo downtown with a full clip
Another dead rapper Los scratching his to do list