Charles Dickens’ Will

I ain't playing with you, I'm deeply hurting
I'm a straight up haze twister, weed is a virgin
I ain't playing with you, I need something perfect
I ain't playing with you, my dreams are blurting

Too white to be Black. Too Black to be in the Black neighborhood I made this beat in, but I'm too white to be Black. White people get that shit. Black Lives Matter. After rapping wrap, there's nothing after chatter. Just listen to my shit, none of this shit matters. Like air, water and gas, I thought I could last. Rolling with the white people that are too Black to be white. I'm too that to be nice. Move back if you chat on the mic. Get your head chopped off. Hedgehog knocked off all the bots on the block. And all they talk about is how to get me back

I ain't playing with you, I'm deeply hurting
I'm a straight up haze twister, weed is a virgin
I ain't playing with you, I need something perfect
I ain't playing with you, my dreams are blurting

I'm not known for my hand skills, unless it's GarageBand or getting your top blown. Mans and them want to be hot, I add a knot, now their top gone. '64 driving, and I ain't talking F-Zero X, nigga. Not necessarily a hero, but I expect what's next, nigga. Standing right next to the river, standing at my reflection in the mirror. Run it back and understand it. Instead of staring, I ain't even caring. Believing in my beauty brings to you what you can see. See three then goo, C-3PO, Who?

I ain't playing with you, I'm deeply hurting
I'm a straight up haze twister, weed is a virgin
I ain't playing with you, I need something perfect
I ain't playing with you, my dreams are blurting

Leave your knives and your guns at home. I keep my knife when I want to roam. This gay shit got me killing myself in the Matrix. I ain't feeling myself. Getting chips, in a way. In a way, getting chips is gay. In both contexts I'm getting laid. Keep it going, now look what you say. Now, keep on eating, keep on speaking. The seat keep bleeding, shitting when I'm walking. These freaks keep seeing. 60% of the bitches that want to roll want to roll with for chips. Going in the crib like "Oh shit! I ain't know what it is. But hold my dick." This is your doom, nigga. All y'all. Tool, what it do, nigga. Fuck one, I cut up until I'm done. Get hype, get right, but this night is my might. I guess the night's going on