Baate - Can't Handle Grief

Fuck this, fuck life, fuck you
I can't live like this, wanting to go after you
I may fucking riot, tired of all the fucking lies
I told myself, you told me, know you didnt
But now imma lose it, now drug imma start using
Feeling like a storm brewing
Maybe it was me who blew it
Dreams of murder I am getting
Fucking killer, like a gremlin
Used to be an 11, soon to be in the 711
Hope you like the dumpster
I asked you to dump her
Fucking bitch, I may be dumber
Blind with red like bull
Stab you with a knife that's dull
Now time for the infection
Last time your ass will get an erection
Might go fucking anorexic
Fuck all this stress, I'm the best man
Name me yes man
Now he a dead man

Ok hold up, what the fuck?
What have I just done?
Nothing yet, but I have those sick thoughts
I need help, send me down to hell
Maybe some drugs I should find, take a lot
Stop myself from acting upon my thoughts
Darkest impulse, should I stop my pulse to save another's pulse
Oh my god, join a suicide cult
Nah, imma find a colt, blow my brains out
No one cares now, so imma shout loud
Can't handle Grief
Turn myself into an enemy
Man I'm just so dead to me
No one come and fuck with me

Written by:
Jay Cordon

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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