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STOP PLAYING WITH MY EMOTIONS


 

STOP PLAYING WITH MY EMOTIONS


Remember when you gave me those zips to flip?

It took so long to get you back

because I smoked that shit. I ain't no baller.

I never thought that I could get on

by selling zones and rocks and playing shot caller.

Dealing was just never my thing.

I was too close to the fallout;

the affected who smoked to hide their distress

and fear and a profound sense of despair.

Besides, I only agreed to sell weed

because I was supposed to, right?

That's what it took to complete the look,

the sanctioned uniform of the hardcore,

and I just wanted to hang, caught between

the streets and the dream of larger

possibilities. But weed ain't free.

So, yeah, I really shouldn't have agreed

to sell your weed when I knew the truth,

I'd probably get rid of a gram or two,

but I was gonna smoke that shit, too--


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