Tonart: G# minor
Verse 1
put food on my plate
above we all can handle
the creation is right
there's a place we gotta meet
without what you can holler
open our relations
criminals, intuition
catastrophic
no one use a Dice child
dedicate my whole style
It's coming my way
scared to make a difference
I got a chain to break
and heartaches,
moves to do surgery
with big footprints in the pavement
Exterior's clean,
but is the center thorough?
and that's just one of my roadblocks
You wind up too late
No question makes it harder to breathe
No sign of hope
You're not an issue
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