Old Perspective/ Inner Conversations
Verse 1:

I rot in hell
Yeah I rot in my grave
Aye, aye
You niggas scared of death, you pussy
Yeah I’m not afraid, aye
Life’s so fuckin traumatic
So problematic, so erratic
Never charismatic
Feeling so sporadic
No oxygen, asthmatic
I don’t go outside I hate traffic
Loneliness so habitual
This is a habit
She looked at the blood stains all over my mattress
Devil looked at her eyes and said
“Bitch you can have him”
She grabbed my heart out of his hand and she stabbed it
Then she went bout her life
Like that shit didn’t even happen
I’m just a trophy on the shelf
Always by myself
Never needed help
But I always needed help
Gave no fuck bout myself
Chorus:
Everything falls apart
No. No
Everything falls apart
No, no