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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
| Song: | Psicosis |
| Album: | | Genres: | Bso |
| Year: | | Length: | 106 sec |
Lyrics:
Yeah, yeah, yeah What the fuck should I do, get high as hell? Shit I might as well lie and dwell, thinking about my life I'm alive and well but time will tell Still admit I'm frigging gritty runt Spinning a mix with ciggy butts as I listen Billy Butts I was a kid in a trip, I stuck to a different bunch Yeah, we were just a bunch of little cunts Stealing stuff, pinching stuff, nicking stuff, sniffing drugs Just a bit of fun and your bitch ain't thinking we give a fuck Rising at noon lighting the buegs, say goodnight to the moon Living life in recluse, hiding from view, I'm confined to this room I'll just stay inside of the booth writing rhymes to the tune Digging in the mic or I'll stick a knife in the wound I've got this slightly confused like I lie with the truth Yeah, now I'm highly amused All the drugs are frying my mind, never mind I'm a goose Always find an excuse, likely to die, someone tie me a noose
Yeah, 'cause I'm buggered but think you must've noticed On the hunt to get a rush before the dusk approaches Blunts and roaches, smoking up to start my focus I've fucking noticed I got stuck inside a drug psychosis Yeah, I'm stuck inside a drug psychosis Yeah, I'm stuck inside a drug psychosis Yeah, I'm stuck inside a drug psychosis I've fucking noticed I got stuck inside a drug psychosis
So I was either paranoid or petrified I haven't slept for nights, shit gets hectic, I'm f'ing terrified I get depressed at the best of times, these were desperate times Staying awake with a knife as some extra protection I, even got stressed by some friends of mine Thinking they're demons of some description, they were scheming to end my life And I dream of it every night so it seems like I'm meant to die Like infecting a pest with pesticide, they won't let us fly Yo my mind isn't right so my diagnosis is I put the psycho in psychosis and rhyme dope shit Sick of these flow biters, soul make em cipher their ghost-writers Go violet, beheading all of the co-signs I'm, dribbling gibberish, tripping over conspiracies People are disappearing but we just think its a mystery I just a ciggy G, maybe a spliif, maybe a hit of weed Maybe a drink, taking a swig indeed Shit I've been a fiend, that's probably why I'm so fried in the mind But don't try to intervene, what, did you think I'm clean? The heck did you frickin' mean? Never would skip a beat They said that its in my genes, I reckon its in my dreams Sit at the window, I thought I saw a demon, believe me Lord, I know they can read my thoughts I'm just keeping it raw, what I've seen ignores it Or they're either a part of the secret or they're just sleeping and snoring Just heed my warning, yeah believe it, we'll need to be cautious They're like 'Wombat, why the fuck would you even record this You lost the plot, this isn't right, it gets deeper than all this It's a freaky disorder, your dreams are distorted, be peacefully ignored' 'Why the fuck are you rapping still? Go on, pop a couple of happy pills Go outside and then smell the daffodils You feeling down, what's the matter, you're feeling haggard still? All the angels you're seeing, you thought that that was real? It's an illusion, you're delusional, yeah how does that feel?' 'He's staying silent We got a Code 3, he ain't complying Give him another dosage'
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