That Just Isn't Empirically Possible - $uicideboy$

It's lonely at the top

All of my enemies have been defeated

The crown has been sitting on my head for too long

It's starting to give me these legions

Don't follow the crowd, the crowd is misleading

Stay solo, surrounded by all of my demons

Licking my wounds as they deepen

Constantly feeding them all of my secrets

007, I got the golden gun, I got the golden

I'm busting, open up the door

I'm at my breaking point, I cannot take this shit no more

I'm ready to fucking explode

Open up, knock-knock, here comes the Glock cocked

Nine milli, pop-pop-pop, oh, no

Making a mess, my aim ain't the best

I guess I should clean this all up and go home

Percocet, Roxycodone, with some Xanax that I had crushed up in some dust, huh

Elevated to another dimension so I got a limp in my strut

I do not care to be here or be there

In the mean time, it seems that I'm stuck, huh

Swerving and crashing, that dying little bastard

Yung Christ, you address me as such, what?

Crazy little demon, they wave when they see me

Face tatted from ear to ear, yeah

Northside boy with a Glock sized toy

If I cock it there's going to be tears here

Manic depressive, when life is in session, I hide in a room that's dark as me

Dollar sign, B, and it's still F-T-P, fucking G-R-E-Y 'til I R-I-P