Miss YouIn2ition

[Hook: Mick Jagger]
I've been holding out so long; I've seen sleeping all alone
Lord, I miss you
I've been hanging on the phone; I've been sleeping all alone
I won't kiss you

[Verse 1: In2ition]
'Everybody listen up, everyone best believe
In2ition spitting wealth. No, not to please
Just for himself: yes, his fans seem to be
Shitting over themselves; they know his mental health
Is getting worse, steadily; day-by-day
Getting nearer to a hearse cause of shit, you see
But let's let him explain what's cause I'm the pain
Okay?' Okay
My girl's cursed; it seems to be the worst thing going on with me
I see guys falling over their chicks; they slip
Hoping they'll suck their dicks. They're pricks, I ignore all of it
My girl's just a piece of shit
Wonder what she'll say when she calls me next
Probably pondering whether to ask me for sex
Get me into her crib and push her up into her bed
Bite off her underwear and tie her up onto it instead
Lord, please just declare: is this the best thing for me?
I don't want her to flare up: give me the third-degree
So is there a way I could just give up fucking easily?
I used to think this girl was the one for me
Cause she was so into me
But she momentarily uses her perfect pussy to push me
Makes me do thinks that I don't normally
And it's starting to get too freakishly freaky
The other night she got me dressed up like Goofy
The ropes were tight and she caressed me with toffee
Next she said she might do fantasy incest if that pleases me
She don't seem to see how much it upsets me
Statistically, the strange sex has got me all textbook stressed
She used to make me feel blessed
Now I feel depressed and I confess, I guess she was possessed
Even before I first put my hand up on her chest
To touch her breast. But I still caress that and the rest
She made me feel like I was the best, but this chick's just a mess
She needs a test before she slits her wrist
Though her death will be best for the rest

[Beatdown: Mick Jagger]
I've been walking Central Park, singing after dark
People think I'm crazy
I've been stumbling on my feet; shuffling through the street
People ask me 'What's the matter with you, boy?'

[Verse 2: In2ition]
'What's the matter with you, boy? Answer me
I know you're only eight but I need an answer, please'
Aw, you're as useless as her answer machine
Get the fuck outta' here before I get my machete
Fuck it; I'm as drunk as Charlie Sheen
I feel like my brain needs a shiny clean
We could make it gleam; it seems to have been
Four months now and there's still no sign. I want her back: she's mine
But it all went up in smoke and she won't take a toke
She'll be fine; greatness is just sublime
Aw fuck it; I need a line
Or to drink enough wine to go climb on a shrine
Leap for my life and disable my spine
I would rather die than sit here and whine
Get tangled up in my mind's vines. Maybe I'm going insane
Mind you, I don't think my mind would mind
[Fade-out begins]
I think I need to take up some prime time
Yeah, or maybe get back to crime, or get back to crying
Whichever crosses by first in this roll of life
Meanwhile, I'll sit idly by; making sure I mind my own
My-my and say bye-zee-bye to the fuckers who looked me in the eye