By Arcassin Burnham

Trouble loves to find its way back to your place,
All in your house,
All in your face,
Where the devil plots here and the reaper intervenes,
Where the devil plots here and the reaper intervenes.

Hailing all the way from Florida a black kid with some
Chill, with a lot of enemies he wishes he took the red pill,
Looking for some solidarity and maybe some clarity but I know
That I can't get it anymore, ain't no more heroes left flying with capes
To the heaven's that brings us together even when your sore,
Death tolls take the floor,
Let the Lord wash his hands,
Then Get Back to washing yours,
The laws are raging and it's war,
The prophecy is inescapable for,
Reasons we can't explain and ignore,
Look for the light as it gleams,
Not closer to death than what it seems,
Most of the things in this world would distract to come to
Extents by any means,
Better be swimming through these streams,
Better be knowing what is important,
Ain't a single life that is important than a cultures lifespan that's
Been shortened

Trouble loves to find its way back to your place,
All in your house,
All in your face,
Where the devil plots here and the reaper intervenes,
Where the devil plots here and the reaper intervenes.