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lirik lagu low – depressive tongue posse

[sharxxx]

i’m drivin’ thru the f-ckin’ fog, thinkin’ ‘bout my life
how i went about it wrong, following the songs
now i’m livin’ out this car, the road i’m on is long
the flow i got is strong, but the hurricane of life much stronger
so i been gettin’ tougher
sometimes i wanna hide this d-mn head under the covers
and i don’t mean a bed, i’m talkin’ i don’t wanna suffer
a bullet or a rope, man, one or the other
i’m livin’ like a dope fiend, i’m tired of needin’ f-ckin’ stacks
the work week worse than any tremors from the crack
and my back break daily, man i hope they pay me
some places i been got it feelin’ like some open slavery
you think i don’t know what i’m f-ckin’ sayin’? check yo wages
is yo time worth as much as you makin’?
and everybody need they b-ttons, buds in the ears
ay yo, i’m tryin’ to tell you somethin’, but no one stops the frontin’
why you wanna pay to be imprisoned in the internet?
why you gotta make it complicated, when it’s simple sh-t?
burnin’ out yer mind, turns out yer blind
abandoned yo third eye, now it’s just a little apple with a single bite
and everybody says, ‘i know, i hate it too,’
but then we got nothin’ to do, and go and see what’s on the tube
and the cops is all crazed, you can see it on the news
but our brains have been erased, so we sit lookin’ confused

i been gettin’ low these days
it’s hard for me to mo-tee-vate
so i’m sittin’, and i’m smokin’, and i’m thinkin’ ‘bout the end of it
smokin’ and i’m thinkin’ ‘bout the end of it (the world, sucka)

[boy froot]

yo i’m thinkin’ ‘bout the end of my life, i don’t wanna live
lookin’ at the end of my knife, i don’t wanna give
anything up, especially not my cup
cuz i pour my lean in it, b-tch i’m so clean wit it
when i rock jeans know they got the seams splitted
n my b-lls hangin’ out to the wall, bangin’ now
when i take a call you know i’m slangin’ that loud
got my flip phone, motorola, with the broken screen
bridgestone tires when i roll up on the scene
i wanna k!ll myself, i ain’t got nothin’ else
when i take a shot, you know i empty out the liquor shelf
when my body rots, bet the flame gonna fl!cker out
if you think i’m hot, then the rain gonna get ya now
smokin’ and i’m thinkin’ bout the end of my days
ya know my corpse is stinkin’ when i send it ablaze
i’ont have sh-t ‘cept the pistol with the hollow tip
even if i miss ya, that don’t mean i ain’t gone getcha kid
lean, you know i’m ‘bouta sip, a queen is sittin’ on my d-ck
when i hit the scene i’m blowin’ green, i roll a f-ckin’ spliff
but it doesn’t help my suicidal tendencies
master of survival, keep on k!llin’ all my enemies
nah son you ain’t no motherf-cking friend of me
barrel of the gun at my head, f-ckin’ end it please
takin’ some amphetamines, stealin’ yo ident-ty
ridin’ and i’m dealin’ wit these b-tches f-ckin’ mentally

- depressive tongue posse

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