Rolling Stone

Give him no weed, just give him some sugar Give him some water and give him some chicken Give him some cookies and give him that cereal Give him some cereal Give him no weed, just give him some sugar Give him some water and give him some chicken Give him some cookies and give him that cereal All I need for my burial Now when you visit this loner for his funeral Bring mixtapes, old CDs of Shakur and Hov He don't need your company, he need a record player He been waitin' long to decorate the walls of his grave He a man, when he shed tears, he really broken He was sad and he bled, wished his city hold him Used to you, used to lose to you, used to losin' you too, the two of you The ruthless cupids shootin' on the behalf of the devil in the suit, the boss booze Was it fuckin' love? Or was it love fuckin' you after gettin' the draws loose Bring him pictures of his ma, father, brother He don't wanna hear or miss 'em when they ask him to come up He wants to sit in the pit and just start smokin' He wants his pen and pad to write about his old friends Money no problem anymore, no dollar can open up this door No sunny days just like he wanted, he tired of warmin' up with rays of false hope His hands on her waist and time's hands on his neck He missed his chance to dance with her, she both lust and death The first-born, more attachment His first prom, a Macbeth No guns drawn but imagine a Mac-10 New bedroom, a casket Forever cuttin' off his phone, the receiver's busy Put poisonous cologne to keep the snakes dizzy A murderous performance, ex's lake drippy No, never to moisturous mourning, he don't mix his whiskey Which is on his stone, his heart is stone He rolls it, stones then he rolls in stones I wrote in stone, I wrote in stone I'm a rolling stone, I'm a rolling stone I wrote in stone, I wrote in stone I'm a rolling stone, I'm a rolling stone The riders, the bitches, the blunt providers The classics, the wishlists that were burnt in the fire Brought to the cremation which was rejected by him Wants to be submitted all rotten, he believes it's gon' inject elation His skeleton's smile is better than what pretty faces got on' em, apparent deprivation Take his heart and break his fingers except the right middle Leave behind the black ring, don't fiddle with it It ain't just an accessory or property but a statement Adjust it properly, his chain meant something different When alive but what it mean now? Riddle planned for y'all to solve while in the meantime he gets absolved His issues resolve, he gets dissolved in the sand The same one that kept fallin' out of his hand, like time And no sickle can cut the weed grown on this land which is owned by none Where an hourglass stands with the precious seconds collected That were neglected chasin' acceptance from some special one The pseudo leadership qualities, kudos to the greedy dick's monarchy Leadin' him to anarchy A deacon spendin' money just on parties A fuckin' bunker to keep his big trophies protected from who he suspected Low-key it's mentioned On his stone, his heart is stone He rolls it, stones then he rolls in stones I wrote in stone, I wrote in stone I'm a rolling stone, I'm a rolling stone I wrote in stone, I wrote in stone I'm a rolling stone, I'm a rolling stone A narrow escape from the Babylon Where robbin' was the only option when the card decline Where straight is the only norm and genders can't recline The red and blue goblins knockin' your eye black and blue if you color blind No reason but just ugh addicted to nicotine, real love ain't nowhere to be seen More money, honey moans, touch and go licks like these dick spirited Stick figure-ish shits play with the clitoris of hypocritical chicks Bitch, bandana for all 7 days of the week in the grave, Makaveli Dreamin' of whips like my brain is trucking the chevy Treason committed by real life daily while I'm blamin' the crazy on psychedelics Feelin' empty inside wishin' I could feel shit It's the whiskey talkin', it says ice could fill it The tux is slightly linen, tightly fitted Socks nicely knitted, sight-free tinted shades Tat on the face of Wesley Snipes, I wisely picked it Taxes won't be paid when I go to rest, I'll be acquitted despite the prison sentence Entrance barricaded to where I exited The traits I exhibited got me here so don't be surprised it's written On his stone, his heart is stone He rolls it, stones then he rolls in stones I wrote in stone, I wrote in stone I'm a rolling stone, I'm a rolling stone