As if the cult of self presupposes either optimism or a dilettante's attitude toward life
With the righteous showmanship of a depressed addict As if your isolation is staged and emphatic cave for one alliance in a faded California
Do these niggas nurse sadness for soul
Or are they ecstatic and you ain't been told
Next, we all warmed ourselves in the evil of opinions and the fast ones got emotional like exact histories of the lie that reliable lie told your hands to rise like this was the other routine
I saw Biggie Smalls strolling through the other routine smile on his meaning said he just missed holding the pen sometimes and can't remember anything clumsy like war and bookeeping as if the slated distance means a future
