See this the kinda beat that just carries the flow,
& this the kinda chick that always tryna blow,
She always feelin' low, always tryna elope,
Cause she just needs some dick that always brings out the blow cause...
She be hittin' the slopes cause...
She's on the ropes cuz...
She don't get no love...
She just gets bones crushed,

She want that dope love - so she turn her nose up,
Rudolph leaves her mark whenever she shows up,
Hell of a time on Christmas tho, never was this difficult,
To think she was once yellin' "Please don't touch!"
The rush of the glammer, portrayal of fame,
I guess glory is the player if betrayal's the game...
Destruction of loyalty and bonds that were made,
On a trip to reach the garden on this holy crusade...

But life changes man... & that's just the worst part too, there isn't much we can do about it , you know?
Just do you...

With her friends in wind, at least momma still present,
Daddy ain't around but when he's home it's never pleasant,
She lookin' to cope, debated cookin' the dope,
In her dreams she's awakened as more than a peasant.
A queen by status, crowned by the madness,
What you old suckas might announce as a bad bitch,
If you count all the rations, and the GMO packaging,
You awake to her demons who've been crowding the masses.
It was ever so tragic that this incident happened,
Guess that's just the magic of pullin the cannon...
This story is truth, she ran into some brutes,
Who past-an-extend how fasta-story-can-end like ...

*Dial Tone*

{ It's a hard empty life when you're sick of the taste,
And every god damn night you relive your mistakes...
Can't shake the feeling , Try to face all your demons,
You either crash and burn or you break out to freedom... }

Crazy you might think this shit is one of a kind,
Some people are just savage for the fun of the mind,
It's wild how it can change from the fun of a line,
To pickin' up the gun and now somebody's dying..
Either somebody's lyin' , or it stays unaddressed -
This the type of white girl you best not take off her dress,
A little bit means more, it's rule #4,
Store your own supply or you'll have no success!
Smoke to the chest , And on an exhaled breath,
Almost woulda bailed without a rail to catch...
Fails to care, so bitter and bare,
And the demons who don't bleed are proceeding as such...
The meaning is rough, but when the feeling is tough,
She look to a mechanism that's easy to touch,
Ran through all her cheese for the ease of the rush,
Barely even breathing hardly eaten in months...
Soul wrapped up, since her man packed up,
Just watched from the window as he backed up,
Rumble with eviction over crumbled addictions,
Led by the track of scratches that she left hacked up.
She need some attention, or at least intervention...
She's headed down the path that the preacher had mentioned...
Sick of being ignored, So she twist up a cord,
Cause the devil's left hand is always ever so tempting.
Now she left hanging, on the place where she landed,
Hard to articulate when you aren't understanded...
Finally awake, finally made her escape,
While all that remains forever waiting and stranded...