LOW LIT

We be in the studio with candles lit and buddha heads The music get me high so I don't need to take the pseudopheds My bitch is stupid thick she like to give me super head But I'd rather hold her hand traveling through Budapest My stupid chest Beating like an 808 Caught the feelings like a cold yeah thats my mistake My immune system must be tweaking Fighting feelings it ain't battling the demons I used to want to grow up to be a movie star But I've been acting since birth like the Olsen daughters I'm just trying to please them all i just play my part I'm wishing for a day off every August third Before I break down like a used first car My engine burning out, fuel running low I'm outta gas money i cant fill it though I'm crashing but you put me on a beat I'm cynical Weed clinical, phone kept near Calls going out but nobody wanna hear me I just wanna speak so dearly Sign the voice mail its me sincerely I'm too high no I cant think clearly And my, head laying on the side of my cold pillow My sleep been deep, the THC a dream killer Grim reap creaping cause they never made one realer look Now it's just Bakwood I don't know who Alex is no I threw him in the gutter look Got rid of him Dip soon look Thoughts from a low lit bedroom And the second verse always gotta be a freestyle And I go in off the dome like speed dial Hit 3 and the phone calls mom I'm overdosed again help ring alarm Ring the alarms and it's going in Candles lit fire started again Start a fire all up in my head Speaking gibberish I cannot speak English Going like a motherfucker on recess Screaming like a kid out on recess Like a court thats out on recess Hoping that I catch a breath go one deep breath Take a deep breath fore I go back in Hit the wood again oh now I'm back again Bakwood and I'm feeling real good Beat draws out like my life good now