Who am I?

All I have is a dream and an unstable mind. 

Knowing that my phantom will pop more than me alive. 

Because in the back of their minds, 

They’re praying for your demise -

So if we’re living to pop off… 

We’re just living to die.

They say jealousy is love and hate at the same time. 

So, what’s keeping me from climbing up top and jumping off real high?

It’s that realizing the truth lies in the pain that we hide 

and that failure and fear truly do coincide. 

Every aspect of my life is fucked up.

I’m too lazy and immature to let up. 

Let go of my ego and let my spirit rise. 

I complicate shit and fabricate lies. 

Fabricated lies that keep niggas criminalized. 

Do or die… 

Feeling like we are due to die. 

Go against the grain and they’ll run you dry.

But I don’t know shit…

Who am I?