Same Problem, Same Story
Same damn problem same old story.
Your issues are valid, but they boring.
You want me with you,
but that's hard for me,
I know misery craves company.
You not my best friend you suck at this.
I hold you down, you can't fuck with this.
I had your back, your a succubus.
Subjective views, you copped my soul with it, wish I noticed it.
Had your interest with my intentions, we got to feed the babies.
Yeah its easy, we can grieve, escape or hide our faces.
I fuck up and think the love is just enough. But here comes the drugs to take my place and show
me up each time like,
Who can really hold her down?
Who can keep her up?
Who can really be a rock?
Its not the who its what.
What can ease it, what can block it, what can fuck me up?
These the questions that we asking when we're sick of love.
You're sick of love, you're sick of passions, sick of half ass trust.
You sick of choices made by niggas who just won't choose up.
You sick of people, and I get you, cus the humans crazy.
But you my people, I was your people; swear
the shit amaze me; that your memory fading.
Who held the block by your side, while the boys is wildin?
Not the what but the who; and the who surround you.
© 2019 Christa Canady