|
And die in a fucking fire. I don't want your god damn fake ass fucking sympathy. You marginalized my frustration and rage when you don't even fucking know what it is or what the fuck you're supposed to feel sorry for.
__________________
Woke up with fifty enemies plottin' my death
All fifty seein' visions of me shot in the chest
Couldn't rest, nah nigga I was stressed
Had me creepin' 'round corners, homie sleepin' in my vest.
-Breathin, Tupac.
|