A Record of Therapy

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 death 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 death 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