32 huh !
32 huh ! thirty year down drain lost soul , cocky brain filled the room with fuckin smoke couldn't see what to gain didn't care bout no wins there didn't want to just fade been through so much shit made my soul constipate made my bed and slept in it all that shit, it couldn't phase was a phase , but it streched too long stockholmed the cage trapped my mind thinking i didn't need those days that bleed you through the cold ways melancholy, yeah it fuckin' stays but i got them bags ready rooting out this fuckin stage 32 bitch, still countin' the scars Thirty-two candles, blew 'em out in dark bars Soul got asthma from all this heavy breathin' Chokin' on pride while the reaper keep leavin' Hotboxed the trauma till the windows look painted Every "I'm good" was just beautifully tainted Made a throne from the bullshit that I wouldn't quit Crowned myself king of the rooms I hate to sit Yeah I romanticized the rope, called it a necklace Stockholm'd my demons, now we French kiss reckless Bags packed, but the zippers stay stuck Rootin' out the stage while I'm still somewhat fucked Verse 3 Thirty-two laps 'round the same fuckin' drain Brain like a landfill, pride like propane Smoked so much cope that my shadow got cancer Ghost in the mirror keep askin' for answers I built this cage pretty, decorated the bars Spray-painted "freedom" with glow-in-the-dark scars Slept in the wreckage, called the mattress my truth Wore depression like a limited edition suit Melancholy moved in, never paid fuckin' rent Now we split bills and split personalities, spent But the duffel's zipped, stage lights in my pupils Time to burn this motherfucker down, no scruples
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32 huh ! thirty year down drain lost soul , cocky brain filled the room with fuckin smoke couldn't see what to gain didn't care bout no wins there didn't want to just fade been through so much shit made my soul constipate made my bed and slept in it all that shit, it couldn't phase was a phase , but it streched too long stockholmed the cage trapped my mind thinking i didn't need those days that bleed you through the cold ways melancholy, yeah it fuckin' stays but i got them bags ready rooting out this fuckin stage 32 bitch, still countin' the scars Thirty-two candles, blew 'em out in dark bars Soul got asthma from all this heavy breathin' Chokin' on pride while the reaper keep leavin' Hotboxed the trauma till the windows look painted Every "I'm good" was just beautifully tainted Made a throne from the bullshit that I wouldn't quit Crowned myself king of the rooms I hate to sit Yeah I romanticized the rope, called it a necklace Stockholm'd my demons, now we French kiss reckless Bags packed, but the zippers stay stuck Rootin' out the stage while I'm still somewhat fucked Verse 3 Thirty-two laps 'round the same fuckin' drain Brain like a landfill, pride like propane Smoked so much cope that my shadow got cancer Ghost in the mirror keep askin' for answers I built this cage pretty, decorated the bars Spray-painted "freedom" with glow-in-the-dark scars Slept in the wreckage, called the mattress my truth Wore depression like a limited edition suit Melancholy moved in, never paid fuckin' rent Now we split bills and split personalities, spent But the duffel's zipped, stage lights in my pupils Time to burn this motherfucker down, no scruples
BOMB! 🧨