[Hook]
On a rainy sunday
I lost my mind
On a rainy sunday
I lost track of time
On a rainy sunday
I sat and died
On a rainy sunday
Valentine
[Verse One]
My sanity's on the line, can't he just can it
When it comes to numbering my lines?
He had one good line on one album but that sh** was cool
But now he just sounds like a fool, my n***a
I forgot a whole bunch of sh**, but what I forgot
Could help you not get jumped and sh**
Maybe I'm only talking to one victim
Who just needs to listen to me so they can learn how to run again
I don't wanna learn how to be a son again
I wanna be known, I don't have to say, "come again"
That's the kind of life I wanna live
Only problem is, I gotta run sh**
My stomach is ripped, not cause I do sit-ups
But cause I'm tired of doing pull-ups from n***as saying get up
n***as never said it, but I could bet, if I put it on
My debit, they put that sh** to bed, and say it
[Hook]
[Verse Two]
African Child p**nography: the wildest thoughts
You gotta see from a black kid. What happened
In the industry was racism; they can't take
A n***a spitting with straight precision
Maybe not Jimmy, maybe not Barry; Barry
Was gay, but Three H wanted to get married away
With David Duke. Say the truth:
You ain't like me, and it's a racial view
Then again, aren't you jack? Don't you black?
Don't you have a gat? Don't I owe you, in fact?
I don't owe you (heh) jack; The laugh
I just added should let you know where I'm at
You pissed off b**hes, n***as don't feel you;
n***as wanna k** me because you're my mildew
So what do I do, bill you? Or still be
Cool with you, or be a real dude?
[Hook]
[Verse Three]
As I musically and beautifully boss 'em, possom
Pardon me, that's what I'm play right now, lost 'em
But Ryan's a**' out getting auctioned, so
Don't say Charles just lost one. Yo, I'm
Tired of critics, ya'll n***as is irritating
I got the ear of Satan; meaning my sh** is hot
And I get it in with hip-hop, so watch me
Only if you not thinking 'bout penetrating
But since most of ya'll n***as is doing that
I guess I gotta come back and ruin rap
See, I run black music—like drums
But I don't like them; I'm the nice one
Problem is I got black beauties, like a horse trainer
One who*e is a brainer,the other one could throw it back;
Don't mean to call you a who*e, but if I couldn't call you that
I couldn't call you no more—that's the game
[Hook]