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It's not an accident I'm multi faceted
When I love something I dive head first until I master it
Yo I bleed for my art, but I'm no masochist
I just can't live while holding all this passion in
It's not decision for me
It's the dichotomy of dying or just living homie
I feel the worst when I'm silent at home and I'm sitting lonely
Brother that's story of life like it was already written for me
It used to feel like an imprisonment
Many times I tried quitting this
But these withdrawal symptoms, I was itching in my fingertips
To try to fly again and again even when I felt my wings were clipped
I can't blame anyone else
Truth be told I was forging weapons against myself
So regardless if I'm attacked repeatedly
I could never escape being me
