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That Just Isn't Empirically Possible
Текст песни That Just Isn't Empirically Possible♪ Караоке
It's lonely at the top
All of my enemies have been defeated (RIP)
The crown has been sitting on my head for too long
It's starting to give me these lesions (yeah, yeah)
Don't follow the crowd, the crowd is misleading (no)
Stay solo, surrounded by all of my demons (ay)
Licking my wounds as they deepen (ay)
Constantly feeding them all of my secrets
007, I got the golden gun, I got the golden gun
I'm busting, open up the door (secrets)
I'm at my breaking point, I cannot take this shit no more
I'm ready to fucking explode
Open up, knock knock
Here comes the Glock cocked
9 milli, pop pop pop, oh no
Making a mess, my aim ain't the best
I guess I should clean this all up and go home
Percocet, Roxycodone, with some Xanax that I had crushed up in some dust (huh)
Elevated to another dimension so I got a limp in my strut (fuck)
I do not care to be here or be there
In the meantime it seems that I'm stuck (huh)
Swerving and crashing, that dying little bastard
Yung Christ, you address me as such (what)
Crazy little demon, they wave when they see me
Face tatted from ear to ear (yeah)
Northside boy with a Glock-sized toy
If I cock it, there's finna be tears here
Manic depressive, when life is in session I hide in a room that's as dark as me
Dollar sign-B and it's still F-T-P
Fucking G-R-E-Y till I R-I-P
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