27 club.

Nihilistic views, despite growing up in pews

This like high school when you stick to what you knew

Smoke a pack to make it through, we was multiplying twos

Never in the classroom, but when smoking backwoods

On my white lighter shit, and I weld it to my arm

So I'm always in possession of a fucking death charm

Epidermis stuck to metal, ain't sentimental

'Cause my epidermis stained with blood, pop vessel

I ran through my options, now ain't no one give me answers

Bitches kind of toxic, what the fuck's a Cancer mean

I been having dancer dreams

That girl that I paid to be