| Loneliness speaks through my smile
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| It sings the darkest lullaby
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| La, la-la-la, la-la, la
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| La, la-la-la, la-la, la
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| I called a 51−50 on myself
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| That’s how you know I need help
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| I called a 51−50 on myself
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| That’s how you know I need (Help)
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| Tears of a fallen soldier, rollin' down my face
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| One hand stickin' out of my grave
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| The whole world left me for dead, Michael Jackson’s estate
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| But I’m too high, I never land
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| A river that knows its source could never run dry
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| That’s why I had to cut out the middle man
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| Hate from all directions assassinatin' my character
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| I felt like Malcom X in J. Edgar Hoover’s America
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| I said the truth and I paid for it, I paid for it
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| I got on my knees and crid to the Lord, I prayed for it
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| I had bounties on my had when my sister was in my home
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| Sleepless nights by the chrome, trigger finger next to my dome
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| Contemplatin' self-destruction, equatin' myself to nothin'
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| Fixated on my regression, I felt like Benjamin Button
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| I collapsed in my depression, I just couldn’t write for nothin'
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| When I stared at my reflection, all that I felt was disgusted
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| My confidence evaporated, less than a man, I was emasculated
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| I turned to violence to be validated
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| Violated probation again and again
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| My kin and my friends like, «What the fuck is up with you, fam?
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| Don’t you understand? | 
| Niggas wanna fuck with you, fam
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| But you keep fuckin' yourself and that fucks with your fans»
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| Pardon me, my nigga, I believed the lie, I kept it too honest (Ooh, ooh,
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| ooh-ooh)
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| The pain behind your eyes tells me that that’s not what you wanted (Ooh, ooh,
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| ooh-ooh)
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| And it’s hard to explain to the people standin' still while you’re runnin' (Ooh,
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| ooh, ooh-ooh)
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| I was runnin' from the absolute savage that I know I’m becomin'
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| I called a 51−50 on myself
 | 
| That’s how you know I need help
 | 
| I called a 51−50 on myself
 | 
| That’s how you know I need (Help)
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| Do you know what the fuck it feels like to wake up every day in distress?
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| Pissed off at yourself, neglect, so you just lay in your mess
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| And people depend on you, got so much shit on your chest
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| That your train of thought can’t seem to find a way to express
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| I find a notebook in my parents' crib from when I was five
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| I went inside it said «I hate myself, I wanna die,» I cried
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| I couldn’t even fathom a child feeling so lonely
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| So next time a nigga tell you 'bout Vic, say they don’t know me
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| I need to be loved, I need to be loved
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| I needed the drugs 'cause I couldn’t do it
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| I couldn’t do it, I was goin' through it
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| Growin' up, I was a product of my biracial confusion
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| Neither Black nor White, I guess that made me translucent
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| I crushed everything I touched
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| I fucked every single slut, I couldn’t bust
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| It was a knot in my stomach
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| I plummet into my dungeon
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| Down in the depths of my darkness
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| I’m steppin' over my carcass
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| I’m comin' out of my hatred
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| Tired of my heart bein' vacant
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| I made a promise, won’t break it
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| I told my mama, «We'll make it»
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| I told my gang, «We gon' make it»
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| They won’t give it to us, we’ll take it
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| One thing that is true is my greatness
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| Promise I won’t doubt, I’ll believe it
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| I’m exercisin' my demons, for the last time
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| Pardon me, my nigga, I believed the lie, I kept it too honest (Ooh, ooh,
 | 
| ooh-ooh)
 | 
| The pain behind your eyes tells me that that’s not what you wanted (Ooh, ooh,
 | 
| ooh-ooh)
 | 
| And it’s hard to explain to the people standin' still while you’re runnin' (Ooh,
 | 
| ooh, ooh-ooh)
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| I was runnin' from the absolute savage that I know I’m becomin'
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| But pardon me, my nigga, isn’t this the life you said that you wanted?
 | 
| You know the car’s movin' fast, what a view, and the women are stunnin'
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| And it’s hard when you’re comin' from the bottom, tryin' not to become it
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| So I’m runnin' from the absolute savage that I know I’m becomin'
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| Comin', yeah |