Released on August 18, 2012

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[Intro]

Maybe it's the...reefer (x4)


[Hook]

Maybe it's the reefer that I'm smoking got me feeling like they coming for me, like they coming for me

As the world is turning got me feeling like the whole world is turning on me, like they turning on me

They tryna' hold me down while I'm coming for the top where they don't want me to be, where they don't want me to be

But maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm crazy, but maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm crazy


[Verse 1]

Hella niggas be on some Jeffin shit

Now that I'm moving up like the Jeffersons really I'm a loner to be alone is my preference

Now with these niggas gotta have a reference they devilish agenda will end up backfiring on em' in a matter of time

From watching my own behind I'm stopping plotting on mine they rotten but I'll be fine

That is if it ain't all just in my mind

This marijuana I'm chiefing make me go debrief the deacon bout what I'm thinking bout demons and breathing beef seeking heathens the preachers not who they seem and the scriptures written in parables

Got me wondering if the translation was terrible

What is up with the looks they give me and why they pretending from me see really for them to think I'm ignorant is hysterical

Acting so innocent animosity building and it's a given eventually It'll become unbearable got me thinking maybe...


[Hook]


[Verse 2]

Lonely, depressed and angry

Slowly regressing baby

Solely investigating [?] impression maybe I'm only imaginating

Homies I had are hating

Phony and aggravated

Bothly just fascinating on me then elaborating

I only have remaining, a few I'm gravitating toward the rest are faded

Holding whats in the sign, for me and say that I'm

Only dreaming of demons, rolling for Columbine

So Americanized, obsessed with knives and 9's in this wicked [?] beyond and buy your mind

For this and now you're not

Will never tie your knot with Satan that is the sake of the way that higher plot

The stress is, really all about where your head is when you in this hellish cellar, feeling like Helen Keller

It's killed or be killer be real and really be iller feel the familiar envious spirit of niggas got me thinking hella CRAZY


[Hook]


[Verse 3]

Now what has the weed man sold me? Is this only my paranoia controls me? Maybe it's in my head, should I sleep it off instead?

Maybe the enemy is asleep with me in my bed

Is she, thinking bout' killing me? Maybe she really is

Probly' because she don't believe anything that I said how many niggas I beef with are plotting to see me dead

They chase me in my dreams and its seems I can't move my legs, is it

Suicide smoking all of these cigarettes if I die from a cancer when I get to the gates will they let me in? Hmm...

I don't know, ya'll waiting to see me blow and I ain't talking bout' music I mean like losing control, I'm close

To the edge, the ledge touching my toes

Soldiers leave me alone cause' there isn't any hope, I'm going all the way crazy and I don't know how to cope

Just give me something to smoke, shit, on that note... (Maybe it's the reefer)


[Hook]