Guardin - backup lyrics

Got some money in my pocket
But that doesn't make a difference
At all, at all,  at all
This isn't fame,  I'm fucking lame
I'm just boy whose tryna figure
It out, it out, it out
Well maybe this is fucking it
The audience has turned against
They wanna justify the creepin' and
Leak my mom's home address
The paranoia rises best when your
Words sit inside my chest
I'm fucking human don't forget that
When you're making your requests

I've got my hands up
You've got your hands on your gun (Mh, mh)
Calling for backup, I'm not the only one
I've got a question
Does torturing me sound fun? Oh oh oh oh
Yeah, you take out your stress by
Punching holes out of everyone

Uh, uh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh, oh

Got some whiskey in my cup
But I don't think that it's
Enough at all, at all, at all
"This isn't me" I tell myself
I constantly worry about my
Health, woah oh, oh, oh
Well maybe I should fucking try
'Cause death is creepin' right behind
I see him sitting in the corner
Lookin' oh so fucking sly
Anxiety is on the rise when
He's constantly on my mind
I fear the day is finally coming
Where I meet my own demise

I've got my hands up
You've got your hands on your gun (Mh, mh)
Calling for backup, I'm not the only one
I've got a question
Does torturing me sound fun? Oh oh oh oh
Yeah, you take out your stress by
Punching holes out of everyone

Uh, uh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh, oh