Bring it,
Bring your sick,
And the winding of my lining,
With all them cysts…
I”d rather die by oldage oldage
Or having kids…
Do forgive,
But I ain’t no one death bitch…
I’d rather die by death bed, best friend,
weapon, laptop, rap rock, stop watch,
back stock, detox………
I want it…
Of the face
Of the arm
I want it…
Of brave…
Cancer come on…
I want it…
Of the hope…
Of the song…
I want it…
Of the quote
Cancer come on…
So lets say I get this sick,
That’s all the rage and anthem with,
These filthy rich ex-presidents,
Then will they let me in the Franklin Mint…
So I might swim, in all that gold…
Till my immune system folds,
one white blood cell at a time.
And one by one, your health is un-done…
and I won
when I get it first.


Lyrics submitted by Malhavic

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