TV life

i cant seem to juke myself trying to proove to myself that my moove is a spell that was set on me when i was choosing to melt loosing in hell who gunna help booze doesnt help mood rung blue print cruel what i felt i dont blame anyone im true to myself pasted on passed face glued to the cell bood on the stage switch boied on the shelfs food on no plate great snooze in a cell who woulda thought it was you that would help god damit god you brought clues to my health i just ignored them its too much i dealt with rude chicks illusions and music that tells nothing but lies surprised u couldnt nelt on the floor and praise the delusion oh well its stupid but in my room with a belt round my neck bout a tech bout to shoot out my self cuz the moovent you put me throughs ludacris mel got money before me it drew to tell everybody how i feel like a fool tryna dwell pride made me drown in a pool with some shell fish shit man jelous of you and you wealth but at the end of the day its just news in the mail