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hypothetically I know the reason you telling me that I'm the reason... the real reason you
telling me that your sick of straight missing me it’s just a season,

Like every time I foul up, make up, and mess up your sad as come be,
Like every time your sad, it always keeps bugging, and eating me,
At what we really mean is it about good days, I thought we were all that should matter, it
seems that after you reach a point of sadness, that only the a ratio of happy  to bad is
all that matters,
 
So bad that I start thinking insecurity,
And insecurity that clogs up like sick lungs like smoking menthol my e.b,
Copy righted poet not on the circuit E… because your name doesn't just start and end with
the double E,
It is just as my fault...oh yeah I keep telling me,
As much as I get drunk and contemplate and try to see...

I miss the preacher mike that hung out and made people try to see, the seeds of greatness
and it just was all true and made them try to be,
The best of themselves and try to shake it, like salt shakers the truth it pour'd and
people made it,

Even when I was partying the people started seeing,
The best of themselves they truly starting being,
But for a season I took’em right off the shelves, 
 Having fun with their lives they got out their restless selves,

I never ask for a dime back but damn who supplied the magic spells,
“All I expected was some real feelings” from some rookies …I asked my self…
And it was all just a chapter, 
I made it out alive, just was with a story and with some laughter…
I'm a stranger that swooped in and even in sin I made you win,
The dude that made you a pawn in a plotted situation, the why you wondering after how I
moved your motivation,
6 people called in, some left our house they pulled back in,
It don’t matter the reason, it was that funny stuff that made it worth the living,
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