Thoughts And Intentions

Mama chill, you bout to lose you a son
These niggas hating,
And they solving all that hate with a gun
Couldn't fuck that bitch again, cause she don't wanna give me a son
Get topped then I'm done, she left the house her hair in a bun
But you ain't shit to me,
To you I'm just a rapper that's spitting zingers
Spinning records on her pussy, I made her squirt with my middle finger
Depression that she had me in made me a stupid drinker
I'm never feeling better, this the life of an overthinker
This shit a wishing well,
I'm wishing it was better if I was dead
My heart was black, but when it comes to text I get left on read
But the blood was shed,
I tried to pump some lead through my fucking head
I want the bread, yet when it comes to dying I'm never scared
I find it funny how, she say she only fucking with dreadheads
Yet my drop fade having ass, still had her squirting on bed spreads
Periods ain't stopping shit, room look like we playing Red Dead
A dead end, and what we had before is in past tense
Ain't that some shit, I'm mixing up my lean with a red pop
Way I pop the trunk on niggas, you would've thought I was Deadshot
But I feel like Trunks, I get to slicing shit then I do the dash
I couldn't smash, yet bitches only want me for fucking cash