This Is Not a Song This Is a Mental Breakdown

(The Crimson Chin!) I would put the extra inch in, but she can't handle that shit Yeah, yeah, ayy Bitch, I'm stressed out Bitch, I'm stressed out Let him talk out his neck, he get stretched now Bitch, I'm stressed out Bitch, I'm stressed out I got shit on my chest I can't let out Bitch, I'm stressed out Bitch, I'm stressed out Bitch, I'm stressed, bitch, I'm stressed, bitch, I'm stressed out Bitch, I'm stressed out Bitch, I'm stressed out Bitch, I'm stressed, bitch, I'm stressed, bitch, I'm stressed out, yeah Friends in my head, they talk to me White bitch snortin' ketamine off my D I'ma fuck that bitch if she offering I'ma get up in her body like autopsy Like Hellboy, feeling like Constantine I don't really think God too fond of me Better use your head, boy, concentrate 'Fore you get your shit stuck, like constipate Like, your bitch be on me, she nagging like Deedee He think that he all the shit, all the kiwi Give him a beating, he running like PE .223 in his mouth, like Binky Chopper hit him, now he hit up the nae nae She go down on me, I'm not talking mayday Let her suck me 'til I'm sleep, and I'm lazy Know some Crips, I'm with my cousin like Day Day Haha, okay, okay Thank you for tuning into my mental breakdown, I appreciate it Yuh, yuh Alright, that's it, goodbye