WHO CAN THROW DOWN A GOOD RAP

They figure me a dead motherf

But I'm just a motherf that want to be dead

$now Leopard with the lead in his head, turning me into a sweater

Beeches use me as their f bedspread

I be the silhouette of a sunset

Smoke a cigarette while I compress my depression

Stare into the violet fluorescent lights, makes me violent

I'm trying to get the highest I can get before I overdose and die

My ribs are nothing but an empty cage

Black hole in my chest, big bang, Yung Plague on the tip of a wave

In my head, I feel like I'm a guest, so I'ma throw it all away

Because when I am dead I will be nothing decomposing in a grave

I'm matter, but I don't matter

I can feel my skull shatter from the dull chatter

Brain splattered on the wall

Grey stains won't dissolve, gonna have to paint it all

It's not fair, I found love

It made me say to get back

You'll never see daylight

If I'm not strong, it just might

Always boasting my emotions on how I'm so f broken

Think I'm joking when I'm talking about blowing my head open

'Til the moment you walk in, and find my body motionless

Wrists slit

Thoughts of $licky falling in an open pit, shoot

Always burn my bridges 'cause I'd rather fall in ditches

If life's a game of inches, then my d has been the biggest

And my goal's to f the world until that motherf's twitching

Lane switchin'

Same mission, to die and blame my addiction, beech

Explanation:

harry byrd declared organized resistance by southern states would prevent racial integration.