Excuse Me – B.o.B – letras

Critical thinkingA sea of souls selling outBut this ship is sinkingFlooded with watered down lyricsWith subliminal meaningsTo wake up another dayLord, give me a reasonAre these prayers really workingOr just triggering feelingsI vocalize my pain and they say, « Isn’t it genius? « I’d be considered a legend if I consistently bring itNow is there life after death or just recall and repeat itOr does it go pitch dark and just dissolve into pieces?If that’s the case I wonder if I departed this eveningFrom the top of the 47th and just fall to the cementFor the entire police quadrant and fire department to see itWould my disembodied soul then reach its path of completionOr just create another sceneIn which to deal with these demonsNot to sound morbid, my views are just distorted and grungyI should cry myself to sleepOn this mattress made out of moneyBut I’m not here to be liked, I’m not here to be niceI’m not here for your war, I’m not here for your fightI’m not here to be hyped, I’m not here for a priceWhen I bring you the truth it’s not delivered politeGamblin’ with my life you shouldn’t have gave me the diceYou shouldn’t have gave me the dice, dice, diceAll this misery shrouded in mystery of violent historyChemistryCure for depressionNo there is no remedyAllergic to bullshit, no antihistamineTop of the class haters graduate to enemiesOut on your ass is where they intended for you to beSnakes in the grass, I’ll cut them out, eventuallySlave to the media, you got to be kidding meYou got to be kidding meYou got to be fucking kidding meYeahAnd we live in a state of confusionI hear what the say on the newsThey usually just laying a blueprintUsed to create a delusionMovies to sway your conclusionUsed to delay your awakeningSteady creating illusionsClues to mistaken the truth withNo sense debating with foolsWho put all of their faith in the skewed philosophyWith situational viewsToo many saviors to chooseI stare at the face of the moonToo much informationToo many equationsIt’s too complicated to proveStories portrayed we consumeLike thanksgiving tables of foodI’m sorry not sorryI ain’t in the moodTo dress up and play in this roomYou can judge me and say that it’s crueltyI see the chains and the whipI just don’t mistake it for jewelryFuck out my face now, excuse meI ain’t got no patience today so excuse me