I've done some things that I had to do,
kept that dirty hand type of attitude.
Had to fill my pockets and hit the fucking concrete,
had to live some places that you'd never fucking believe.
But I kept on ducking and weaving,
conscience ain't a thing when you're just trying to keep breathing.
Retrospect sometimes keeps me up at night,
but perspective comes into frame and I turn off the light.
Swam the dark waters fought to keep my head above it,
so don't ever fucking tell me that I don't know how to struggle.
The struggle is real.
So fuck being fed from a silver spoon,
it might taste nice but it's no good for you.
Because when you're alone and feel the grip of reality pull,
you might not be surrounded by family but by ravenous wolves.
Sometimes the worst foe is that voice inside,
but it's only you that gave it life.
When the battered thought comes to fill ya head,
shatter it on the floor like Silvas leg.
You gotta take this life.
You gotta break it down.
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