Desperate

Yeah
 Bring the drums in
 Uh, yeah
 A 1-2, yeah
 Yeah, what the fuck am I supposed to do?
 Yeah, supposed to do
 Check it out, uh
 Listen
 I'm in my flat flat broke, black smoke
 The voice in the back of my mind's eyes have hope
 I have rope, I could end it all feelin' that
 Local rapper found hanging from a ceiling fan
 That would be the easy way out though
 But what would that amount to apart from a outro
 It's not what I'm about yo, I'm never for shortcuts
 A taken life is never right, that's something the lord does
 Sortin' through these past dues, my choices led to bad moves
 No soap in the bathroom, I don't want to hustle but I have to
 Back to the drawing board
 Zip locks stock up on what the clients want
 I am taught but I won't listen
 Self-destructive sort of like I want to fail
 But what I want to feel isn't what moves me
 Why I grab a pen and stick to this loose-leaf
 So what the fuck are we supposed to do?
 What the fuck are we supposed to do?
 Don't even have a rope to hold on to
 So what the fuck are we supposed to do? Come on
 No way out for us to make that move
 So what the fuck are we supposed to do?
 What the fuck are we supposed to do?
 Tell me what are we supposed to do?
 While these motherfuckers pop bottles
 I'm taking pop bottles back into the store so I can get some Top Ramen
 What the fuck they know about that rock-bottom
 Everyone I know is feeling down-trodden
 Everyone I know is still all about robbin'
 I'm not talkin' 'bout a stick up, uh
 I'm talkin' liftin' up that drawer before that afternoon pick-up
 Shattering that tax bracket you sick of
 On some get up, get out and get some this shit, come on
 The mind wanders when you're poverty-stricken
 And only hope you're holding on to is a lottery ticket
 Bills piling up so don't see you smiling much
 Start thinking of some violent stuff
 Like umm, why the fuck don't I just get a pint of some rum
 A nine and tuck it between my teeth and say good-bye I'm done
 Economy is down and suicides are up
 We rather die by a gun than let this world be the death of us
 This world'll fuck you and expect you just to smile through it
 Waking up is a reminder thinking why do it
 They wonder why these motherfuckers snap
 One minute a family man until he's walking in that planet
 He's thinking, where the fuck's my overtime?
 Last resorts become solutions to a sober mind
 An empty bottle list the fucking demands like
 "Hey Joe, where you going with that gun in your hand?"
 Yeah, feeling like there's one way out of this hole
 Feel the weight of the world, your hate feeling out of control
 Either I'mma see the light or the light'll burn out
 No mistake though it's never too late to turn around
 Turnin' out to be a catch 2-2
 Not a stretch for me to fetch the 2-2
 I know that's a bit theatrical
 But this poison is pungent, it's just so suspect
 How much I've been avoiding the subject