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lirik lagu the empty chair – reezill

me: what up?

him: how you doing my n-gga?

me: stepped away from self hate finger off of the trigger. had a dose of td jake’s just sweeten the bitter. still have thoughts about caving to the pressures of liquor

him: ain’t no happiness in that it just feeds on the liver, feeds on the thinker, leads to going dumb on a n-gga

me: ya i know, it -ss-ssinates the mind of a winner. i can feels satan snicker with hes lips on my kisser, pause

him: haha, guess the angers on simmer

me: nah i feel it every minute fuel the mind of a k!ller, when i see those who deserve it just surp-ss and get bigger, and the ones who dont deserve it just surp-ss em more quicker

him: that’s just envy, it ensures your unfulfilments considered. it’s the type to make a souls flame fl1cker and shiver

me: then i guess i’m in the winter as my happiness withers

him: you just have tendency to overthink it my n-gga

me: hol up, ya i know mbalis said this about me. and i’m trying not to let this typa thinking confound me. and there’s been a couple times where the demons surround me. i guess every single time god came looking and found me, the sh-t is astounding

him: ya you gotta watch your surroundings. those surroundings motivations can determine you doubting. and dont talk to the types to watch you drown in your fountain of youth. the ones to leave you as the solo accountant

me: man i’m tired of this sh-t and the ones that switch lanes, and ones who rep the set but in secret wanna switch race. the ones who say they black but negate and hate their race and skin, the types who take pride in the bleach stains

him: and you ain’t ever felt that way?

me: man i never they just never let me love myself, and now i never let them ever get above myself. i might feel myself but they the type to f-ck themselves

him: ooooo did yall hear that sh-t

me: to those like me they ain’t worth you trying to slit your wrists, to the ones not on my d-ck yall can suck my d-ck, all my exes current jobs t-tle that side chick

him: hol up hol up hol up man we getting off topic, getting waay too in depth with your personas biopic. please define your name ill and the depth in its logic

me: sh-t’s apparent in these bars they so ill that they chronic

him: haha, last words as we reach the finale

me: momma imma make you proud and make you happy you had me. mj summers i’d still eat it if the booty is saggy. keep a look out when i pull up with an immigrant ch-ssie

him: yaa and to the boys make it quick make it snappy

me: ain’t got much to really say hate when moments get sappy, hope you ain’t ducking bullets ain’t n0body named daffy, hope you dodging trap queens for an imperial l-ssie

- reezill

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