High Class Junky (Thoughtaholic MIX)

[INTRO] Another intake. Another story. Another name. Another pain. Tell me… What makes me different… From the dope man? [VERSE 1] Dope dealer. Audi A6. Supercharged Quattro. That’s what I whip. Licensed to heal. Licensed to prescribe. Licensed to witness What keeps a soul alive. “What are your cravings?” “When was your last use?” “When did you stop believing There was another way to choose?” Detox protocol. Vitals every hour. Blood pressure climbing. Cold sweats shower. Hands start shaking. Eyes lose focus. Fear starts praying To whatever still notices. [BUILD] Take the pills… So you won’t get sick. Take the meds… So maybe this one sticks. Street corner medicine. Clinic room prescription. Different conversations. Same human addiction. Everybody’s chasing Something To finally… Feel. [THOUGHTAHOLIC PURGE] Free drugs…I’m the plug…
Tax money paying every bill while we’re praying enough is enough but enough never fills what an empty gut wants, want becomes need, need becomes greed, greed becomes creed, creed becomes me, licensed to heal but questioning healing, treating the symptoms while searching for feeling, prescriptions, permission, physician, condition, addiction, conviction, who wrote the definition? White coat? Never wore it. Jordan’s on my feet while I’m walking through torment. Every chart tells a story, every story wants glory, every glory ends poorly if nobody mourns what was buried before me. Tell me…what’s the difference between surviving and living if relief keeps replacing the reason we were given? [BREAK] (Breath.) … I don’t want Another patient. I want Another beginning. [OUTRO] No judgment. No shame. No pedestal. No blame. Just two people Sitting On opposite sides Of the same question. Trying… To find Something real.