Grey Thoughts

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His Name is Rob

084/365

I see a wad of cash
One that I want to stash
Armed guns
Hand bags
Hands up
Hand that

I’m not playing when I’m saying what I’m saying
I mean every single word
To me this isn’t a game

It’s done for the money
Not done for the fame

Do it for the Me
It’s the reason that I’m sane
My brain can’t be tamed
It’s not ashamed this same name has gained the fame I can’t claim

Tear drops for the weak willed
Overfilled cups of ill skill
Killed cops, still
Willing to slit sluts, for real
Take shots
Calm, chill

Bag of jewels
Mad cash
Broke rules
Backstab
Old school
Fools drownin’ in pools of blood
Left behind stranded
Abandoned
Disbanded