Chris Patrick - NUMB

You niggas,
Act like bitches
Each time shit hit the fan
Move different
Chris been addicted
to seeing visions lands
Cold floors on palettes
Eviction notices
Whip got slammed
Label ain’t resign me
I’m dead broke
Tryna flip the plan
Written after written
After written
Till my wrist is jammed
Can’t waste a fucking line
make sure every verse a 10 for 10
Picturing the moment
My redemption arc
Could ascend to win
Ain’t switching up the focus
Till i open doors and
Get up in

The same fucking buildings
that they locked me out
Negative balance in my account
And I’m still popping out
Opportunistic,
I’m at the smi and JID shit rocking out
Thinking “If this shit my only chance”
Then I’m gon wild out

Shit i got my smile out
Little do they know, I’m feel the pain erupt
The woman i was pose to spend my life
Said she hate my guts
Niggas killed my cousin
Plus my grandma wasn’t waking up
still fucked them stages up
I told Rob and Kev
I’m in that field until my grave is tucked

Fuck i looking like sleeping
Whens there more to do with this dream
I can’t even buy my mom a crib off of these sixteens
rent was late again,
They said they need that by the fifteenth
I’ll make it work
Im begging my landlord
Told em to give me

2 more days
48 passing
Watch me come up
with this bread
In more ways than we imagined
Bitch my craziness is passion
Go to lengths to see my greatness
Reach the masses

I was whipping up
Protein shakes in the crib
to make up for meals i ain’t have
Booked for shows with the guys
But spent most the bread on the Trav
Working till 3 am
But at 6 I’m back in my bag
fuck is self-preservation
I needed this shit so damn bad

Moving quickly
Essentially
My selfishness been blooming from a bent tree
Growth is full of pain
But i grew numb to when shit hit me
A family home with kids in the backyard
Been sounding risky
I had to make a choice,
And that choice i made was to pick me,

Like pick me’s

I’m standing on decisions
I’m channeling
a space to make
tangibles from my vision
If i die, then so be it
I’ll handle it when i get there
failure ship doesn’t live here

I done told y’all mother fuckers

That I’m Tired of running
Tired of ducking
I’m tired of struggling
I’m tired of tiredness
Tired of suffering
trying my hardest
I gotta try something
gotta try something
I gotta try something
I gotta try something
For its too late

Written by:
Christin Patrick

Publisher:
Lyrics © Too Lost LLC, Songtrust Ave

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