“Paper cuts”

Prayers up,

I got my paper up,

I’m raking in so much,

That I got paper cuts,

Im overthinking, drinking dirty Fanta outta paper cups..

Who woulda known that I’d get here?

It’s a lonely road, -it’s hard to witness,

Mo money-mo problems,

Always true but never finished..

The things they don’t tell you,

Sell your soul for some assistance,

But not me……

I’ve done it all alone, I write my songs without a drone.

But I’m still prone to being wronged,

So here I go-I take control.

I’m never losing this,

Or else I’ll be alone,

If I can’t take it-then I’ll prolly put a bullet through my dome,

I’m going home……

To a place where I know nobody can bother me,

I’m healing but I see jezebels-as far as I can see….

Seductive demons draining life and dreams…

I know the price is free,

But if I never stop the cycle now,

I’ll probably lose it all while I’m asleep,

I’m digging deep…..

I’m tryna seperate my traumas from my peace,

I weighed it all, no need to wait at all,

I know what I should keep.

The words I speak,

-Inciting riots,

They pull swords from out my speech,

I gotta fight em off,

And yet I come up short like baby creed……

(I come up short like baby creed……)

Paper cuts and dirty cups, that’s the price of chasing dreams…

Every scar a story, every loss a planted seed…

I ain’t tryna sell my soul, dawg-I just want my spirit freed….

So if you ever hear me story out-

Just know that it’s my creed……

Paper cuts and dirty cups, that’s the price of chasing dreams…

Every scar a story, every loss a planted seed…

I ain’t tryna sell my soul, dawg-I just want my spirit freed….

So if you ever hear me story out-

Just know that it’s my creed……