I don't need your help, do it all myself, burning all my bridges, and I hope you're burning out. I don't need your help, do it all myself, burning all my bridges, and I hope you're burning out. Bet you laughing, mama struggle paying taxes, you relaxing, rose colors in your glasses. I've been pretty passive, but I'm done with all the acting. I don't want to see your face or your neck, bitch, I'll snap it. Alcoholic piece of ***, I don't give a *** about you two-faced niggas so much, and I don't trust about you mom, drive Cassandra to every single practice, and every single shift, and all the ***ing classes. You ain't really done *** for us. You ain't really done ***. Nah. I don't need your help, do it all myself, burning all my bridges, and I hope you're burning out. I don't need your help, do it all myself, burning all my bridges, and I hope you're burning out. You bought a penthouse, skipping on support checks. You a ***ing scum, going lower than the floor gas. You a ***ing black hole. You a vortex, can't rain on me. I'm flexing with some Gore-Tex. I learned to drive myself, graduate myself, and I ain't really ***ing like you. I don't hate myself. I ain't turning psychopathic bitch into my wife, so take your sorry ass, stay the *** away from my life. Don't text me. Mother***er, don't text me.