In Decent word

T-t-t-trope Toilet paper on the bottom of my sole T-t-t-trope Toilet paper on the bottom of my soul How many times God gonna smack me And I'm supposed to turn my head I don't wanna talk about how the whole world bleak Most def don't wanna see red I'm not tired enough to sleep And yet somehow I'm exhausted Kid in a ball pit way I keep no track of sleep I'm tossing in bed So discreate within myself I got lost within my own pelt For all the honesty I bleed Can't seem to speak when I need help For all the skeletons I breed You conceive a faulty made of felt Knees bend on themselves, you give yourself hell You keep cutting corners you're gonna lose Your edge against me, curbside gonna see In conversation I ain't clueless to the mess that you leave That's that lying through your teeth It's a hit and run but you never hit I see innocent getting clipped Word on the street you run it down with your lip Hurt that you keep in a gear that won't shift T-t-t-trope Toilet paper on the bottom of my sole T-t-t-trope Toilet paper on the bottom of my soul You been talking out your neck Like you've been cigarette smoking Hole in your throat, begging to be floating You keep puffing out your chest But your words will have you choking Wanna be smoke begging to be floating I'd rather find a reason to love than to hate We're not the same And even when the feeling flush up my face I don't engage But my head tight, wonder if it's about bedtime Guess I could be off of the meds, right They just be making my bed light Can't go out like, I got hindsight Tryna be fighting the 'good fight' Your not a good look, don't flash on me Ain't no man that can't take your life, alright If you died today...