I'm feeling low a little, everything is looking dark in my souls peripheral, and I'm scared to be a Jason Williams, your careers over they take your millions, yeah you're smart but it seems that your mistakes are brilliant, and I'm feeling like another gla** will numb the pain, that's dumb to say but I'm underrated underpaid and dying from the hunger pains, the money fame does something strange to a brothers brain, but you'll don't hear me though As I recline back and crack the Macallen 12, I guess the whiskey and heartbreak they balance well, don't get it twisted stardom has it's wrath, the irony I'm empty like the bottom of my gla**, things move fast and I can't even out, but musics my life and moves at the speed of sound, the freedom crowds at the tip of my pen, I let it all go then I dip it back in, the Inkwell