TIME ON MY HANDS

All this time on my hands I still feel it ain't enough

I confess my love to you Hope you feel where I'm coming from

Pit of my soul, blood of my blood Flesh of my flesh, yes

Know I need that ever-blessed when I'm stressed, yes

Hand on my word, I confess I'm a mess, yes

But it's a method to my madness, let you in If you don't stab me in my back

Make me regret the things I said Wondering if I should keep it to the voices

In my head, damn There's so much fake inside this world, don't

You go join it I'm really in the storm and I cannot conform

The local news paint my niggas like a horror Like, damn, homie, you supposed to be in a

Foreign Country with plenty bitches, not a cell with