If I

I know if I was to simply say to you that if I got that spitfire,

Get fly, I'm gonna help you get by,

Bite my lip until it bleed if I let you crash,

Body hit the water, splash, all for a wad of cash,

Passion-plea to self, so it's not his last,

Lot is cast, take you from a broken past,

Open with his smoking stash,

Promise no more; he done broke his last.

From affliction to addiction, wound to infection,

From a rookie to professional, secret to confession,

Every level is progressional, pushing every envelope and boundary protecting you,

Slowly decomposing, you oppressing, you depressing, you be stressing you out,