The other side of my membrane is going berserk

Is it my psychosis or flooding on the sizzurp

I don’t know, I can’t think

My mind’s gone, I can’t blink

It makes sense if you think of it

My mother knows, she intuitive

Where is the God that I can trust?

Where is the girl that I can bust?

Where is the notepad it is a must

Wanna ride cars, get tired of the bus

Like a hemorrhoid, it’s pain to my butt

Like paper to scissors, I’m tired of being cut

I’m playing safety, have no time to rush

A contradiction, but I don’t give a fuck

That’s right, I don’t give a fuck

Another word filler for the rest of this smut

Searching for the clover without any luck

Pippi Longstocking would not give it up

So I have no choice but cross seven seas

To find the sensation that claims the bee’s knees

I become malignant like disease of the cancer

Playing second bananas to the nigga ahead of Prancer

Mellow dramatic, but flows are being crafted

Mathematical when I serving these tangents

A full house of women like I’m Bob Saget

Supplying me with routine to support my habits

Rocking my adidas while doing the cabbage patch

A clever MC that is within their habitat

What you called negativity I call creativity

More important than the scene at the nativity

What will happen at my 32 years?

Not acting like Forrest running away from my fears

Sometimes life can really grind my gears

Stay in my lane and always switching gears

The tank is on E, but I am staying focus

To another state of mind of my psychosis