5300
Stressin lately,
Feelin like God hates me,
Afraid maybe he'll take more than I can bare to lose and it brakes me,
Took some of my closest friends but didn't take me,
The pain makes smoke more,
I pour my heart on these sheets of paper in hopes for,
You to understand me,
But I know it's hard to give a fu*k towards a stranger,
I'm in danger of falling apart and my parts burning in anger,
Only blunt ashes left of my physical form,
I pray for the norm and hope the unborn,
Walk a different path in life,
It's so hard to sleep at night,
Missing dead homies I'll never see again,
I awake and practice my straight face but it's so hard to pretend,
Smokin my 63rd blunt again,
I chase it with straight gin my hard hat on rebuilding up my strength within,
on the edge of my bed as a new day begins,
Hoping for blessings stressing smokin my 63rd blunt again.
