I wonder if I even give a **** about myself
If I love my health or love the idea of loving them more
Whether the bottles are red capped or full of liquor that's brown
I feel so much warmer on the inside when it's around
I wonder if the heredity is getting the best of me
Because you see since I began it seems my father has resumed
You think the possibility of being alike is adorable
But in my case it's deplorable
To my wellbeing it isn't affordable
But I can't make that budget cut to my psyche
I'd rather buy a bottle of Bourbon than some new Nikes
Is it likely that maybe insecurities fall into obscurity when I'm being loved by all of my impurities?
That I'm hating on the **** that I'm making because my sober mind is murdering all of my thoughts?
I'm undertaking
Putting pressure upon my person to see no one's gonna feel pity when you're in the streets
Find a way
Find the time
Dance around
Write a rhyme
Do whatever you can to **** some time and distract your brain from saying liquor will keep you in your prime
-zaba