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  1. Miscalled

Writer(s) – J. D. Hopkins
Producer – Demo; Best Kept Secret

Lyrics

(Talking)

[Intro]
“I’m back in the struggle. I’m thinking of packing a mack in the hustle.
You see the black in my knuckles? Not slapping when stacked in a tussle.
I got the brap in my muscles. The guns are genetically mutant.
I bear arms too sick. I’ll move stick, you’ll need medics. I’ll prove it!
Ruthless is my mind state. I can’t remember what I ate.
For the last two weeks, it was two meals and then some drank.
Thinking about taking bacon if lucky in a Safeway;
When its whatever, its mayday twelve months without a vacay.
Not lazy. Minimum wage got me venom enraged.
Should I sit in a cage and stay on scale losing some weight?
Hey, when I was 10, I used to pretend that rocks was money.
Now, I think it’s funny. ‘Cause I done seen the rocks with druggies.
I remember me and Bucky rolling down to Mickey D’s.
Only got 2 bucks total. We’ll go for two double cheese.
Please, don’t make me pay the tax is all that I can ask you.
I’m Bled’Jon, and I’m honest, and I don’t want to jack you.”

[Verse 1]
They miscall me a leader with a shadow of bravado.
And although I follow leaders, it’s the liters that I swallow.
Bottles of the liquor got my liver giving up.
It’s hollow as I’m in here. Should I live or give it up?
Got a couple cups and I’m stuffing the pain killers.
I don’t know what’s up, but it’s something that’s dangerous.
Man, I’m doing double the downers. I’m down and out.
Hand on the liquor, the quicker that I’m drowning now!
But, I need an upper. So, I’m chugging the Red Bull.
Bleeding up my guts; just the ruckus I Bled through.
Quick! I send a picture to Tristan of what I’m doing.
He ain’t text me: Black! So, I’m back to what is ruined.
Soothing as I take a sip. Pop another pill too.
Stand upon my feet only to drop upon my grill.
Real, I’m awake and having a heart attack.
OD, heart freeze, and that’s when he called back.

[Verse 2]
I remember when you called it was 12:19
In the am “what you saying all I hear is crying?”
Muttered like a muzzle was upon your esophagus;
Stuttered in the softest “BledJon, I lost the kid!”
PAUSE……………………………………… “I’m sorry.”
Racing in my mind, rewind “So very SORRY!”
“Love you and I’ll never leave whatever you need me;
I care and I am there. We’ll talk tomorrow in the evening.”
Sleep, but I can’t dream it feels I’m living a nightmare!
Ring you and got chills that I’m still dealing with right now.
“How?” “Never told you how it happened:
Jon, they jumped me. They punched me. They kicked me and they started scratching.
Kicked me in my stomach, ‘till I started leaking out!”
I’m tripping. “Did you know them? Could you point and peep them out?
I’m coming and I’m gunning for whoever was involved!”
Even my homies don’t even know me. I’m miscalled.