OG INSTRUMENTAL: ROLAND JONES - STRICTLY ROBB

LYRICS:

it's a blood on my hands? Or it's just another dream

When i walking on some shit, some shit of a skulls and wrists

Why they always fucking lazy, this so hard just to be real?

Loosing time, where's my disks? Where's the shows like Shaun the Sheep

Little nails in my belly make me rust like father's jeans

All my breakfast it's a coffee without motherfucking milk

I gotta tears on my heart, gotta shoots on my back

Don't like doctors, want surround me? Bitch, i'm feel like quarterback

All my room in smoke of swear with farts and motherfucking coffee

Now i ain‘t give a fuck ‘bout pretty, i was ain’t give a fuck bout nothing