winners don’t do drugs

Uh, oh, oh, oh
These [?], yeah, yeah, yeah, yuh, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay

Since I was twelve, found my cure up on the shelf
Never thought there’d be an answer besides the “pearly gates” or hell
I got band-aids used for clamping for the wounds upon my shell
Never bit the hand that fed me, only hands that I was dealt, yeah
I’ve been awake for my days, I never numbered
Crystals made all of my chains bend to eachother
[?] brought the willing to slap me in my place again
Green door I see in the [?] to be my place again
Feeding not enough, crystals turned to drugs
I was born a loser, because winners don’t do drugs
Winners don’t do drugs
I don’t give a fuck
I was born a loser because winners don’t do drugs

I ain’t on that poison, whatever that they can’t break to my state
(I take a [?] yeah yeah)
They can’t lie to win my [?] and I got strapped from my name (But I-, but I-, but I-, but I-)

But I hit him up with the droppers I can’t choose about a straw that he just [?] hoe- hoe-hoe-hoe-hoe-
Nigga
Why’s there a test for how dirty my piss is
When there’s not a test for your soul?