Got some money in my pocket
But that doesn't make a difference at all
At all, at all
This isn't fame, I'm * lame
I'm just a boy who's trying to figure it out
It out, it out
Maybe this is * it The audience has turned against it
Want to justify the creeping in Leak my mom's home address
The paranoia rises best When you're a * in someone's chest
I'm * human,
don't forget that When you're making your request
I've got my hands up You've got your hands on your gun
Calling for backup, I'm not the only one Yeah,
I've got a question that's torturing
me so fine You take all your stress and find chills out
Of everyone I've
got some whiskey in my cup
But I don't think that it's enough at all At all,
at all
I tell myself I constantly worry about my health,
oh
Or maybe I should fuckin' try,
cause death is creepin' right behind
I see him sitting in the corner,
looking all so fuckin' sly
Anxiety is on the rise when he's constantly on my mind
I fear the day is finally coming where I'll meet my own demise
And I've got my hands up,
you've got your hands on your gun
Calling for backup, I'm not the only one
I've got a question that's torturing me so fine
You take all your stress and find chills out of everyone