Ay, Momma, I’m stuck in drama

The trauma dun made me dumber

This mind is steady in flutter

Flummoxin like a motherfucker

Dyin inside…

Chokin on the blood inside…

I guess that must be why

I’m failing when it comes to tryin

No more whining with the “why, why, why”s

The real is just the picture

The picture is just a fixture

I angle the fixture with liquor

Adding it to the scripture

Fleshing it out with pictures

Padding it, make it thicker

It’s a neverending cycle

And I’m sharing it in flickers

Tryin to fill in the fissures

Ay, momma, I ain’t feelin like a victor