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Album: The Gun Show
Baby, do you want me or somebody like me?
Cuz finding someone like me might be highly unlikely
Heartbreak kid, Clark Kent lives, Parkay spit when the heart rate lifts
Like butter, nice to your mother, diamond cutter flow, no st-st-stutter
Treble and bass reveling head case, rebel
Dig it like a shovel when I'm on another level
At the door with a butter knife, gutter type
Rap never subtle like strapped to the shuttle
World-beater with the heat for the three-to-four
Defeated sorta people at the feeding court
Furious in believing it proves that perception is best to be ignored
With an ego to fill this room, and a heart that could fill it too
Living a vanilla sky lucid dream thinking you could ever fill these shoes
They call me the space cowboy
The new gangster of love
Two black eyes and a broken nose
Laugh while I spit this blood
Oh, heaven help me
Save me from myself
Please, heaven help me
If you don't help no one else
Think it's pathetic most of ya'll don't even see me
I love Jesus, but living like Him ain't easy
And I'll admit I've been the first to pretend
Mr. Pious with high and mighty, righteous dirt on my hands
I got some struggles and I'd like to be honest
But ya'll don't even wanna see the darkest part of an artist
So thump your Bible while I spill guts and bile
And love this generation of fighters you revile
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