A Record of Therapy [x7]
[Verse I]
Welcome to honesty hour where the flowers are wilting
The plants can't grow between the cracks in the building
I guess I lack an appealing sound/not even for the children
And that's not even on the topic of rhymin and riddling
See I fiddle with life and thumb it up in the pocket
Of my gym shorts and down it falls south into the ground
Until it drowns inside the water covered earth but it's in the dirt
And then bursts into flames "but see that's lyrically lame"
Is it really that lyrically lame? Or critically acclaimed
See all I wanna do is present to you my clinical shame
In a bit of a lane that stretches down to Texas
Cuz I guess I'm lacking moments that just leave me breathless
So you can stack the odds against the cat that they call Mac
But in the end it won't matter the chatter won't last after
The blood plastering d**h caused by ones who weren't there for me
Excuse me doctor, is this A Record of Therapy?
[Verse II]
So dearest doc or whoever the hell is proctoring the sessions
Why don't you sit back let me ask a couple questions
Is life an equation that we all try to solve but in
The end there's no solution but d**h and doesn't it stress
You out the way to does to me and bluntly I don't
Wanna become a product of the fun I see
I wanna make my own fun/win my own race
Battle my wars/beautify my own face
Don't they try to tell you watch over your own brothers?
So your job is really more than couples troubles under covers
See, where does the therapist go for his sadness
Until he fathoms does he pour it in gallons to see the callow
And be the shallow, just ignore the battles he's confronted with
Cuz a lie, if needed, can cause a persons sun to shift
But please, Dr. Mr. Sir MC Crae
That's all the time I have no more questions today