I Pray That God Answers, Maybe I'll

His Palms Are Sweaty, Knees Weak, Arms Are Heavy There's Vomit On His Sweater Already, Mom's Spaghetti He's Nervous, But On The Surface He Looks Calm And Ready To Drop Bombs, But He Keeps On Forgettin' What He Wrote Down, The Whole Crowd Goes So Loud He Opens His Mouth, But The Words Won't Come Out He's Chokin', How, Everybody's Jokin' Now The Clocks Run Out, Times Up, Over, Blaow!

Everybody Has Goals, Aspirations Or Whatever, And Everybody Has Been At A Point In Their Life Where Nobody Believed In Them.

Behind Every Sucessful Person Lies A Pack Of Haters

People At Rehab Were Stealing My Hats And Pens And Notebooks And Asking For Autographs. I Couldn't Concentrate On My Problem.

I'm Standing On My Monopoly Board That Means I'm On Top Of My Game