Omega McBride - Therapist

Sitting on the edge of the bed
Both of my eyes bloodshot red
Hands on top of my head
Tired from jogging are my legs

Just got the news my older brother was shot dead
Tryna remember our last conversation and what he said
He told me he got into it a little wit the Feds
It seemed somebody got to em before he would've fled
Pulled a gun on em, made him get on his knees and start to beg
I can already hear people taking bout the life he led

You know he sold cannabis
And admitted to gambling
Plus, he left his mother and brother
Just straight abandoned them
Too many Pitbulls
He knew that he couldn't handle em

If not for that distraction
He wouldn'tve been assassinned
He left and since he's been gone
He's seldom visited home
Know that he made his grandmother
Foot the bill on his phone

Must've thought he was righteous
He never said he was wrong
Always worried his momma
So, this is probably karma

Bryan said he was a G and He couldn't see how this happened
He was upset that he never seemed to support his rapping
How could he never look back
And help where his brother was lacking

None of of it's fair
Pour liquor there
I hope he said his prayers

I probably
Therapy, Therapy, The-the-Therapy
I probably might need Therapy

Might need Therapy
Therapy, Therapy, The-the-Therapy
I probably might need Therapy

I probably
Therapy, Therapy, The-the-Therapy
I probably might need Therapy

Might need Therapy
Therapy, Therapy, The-the-Therapy
I probably might need Therapy
Reaching for my cell
I then heard a knock and bell
Got up, opened the door to my room
And then I smelled the powder of one shell
Coming from he gun held
And pointed as my mother's only first born son fell
Yelling, "Someone HELP!"

I rushed to the front door
Saw that it was my Aunts and Uncles galore
I opened and tumbled to the floor
We huddled and roared
Crying out like lions, shouting out to the Lord

One said, "Time, why wasn't he given more?
God is Sovereign, he knew just what was in store
A sad day, in the Thomas family tree
Never before thought about how deep
Would this tragedy be

I wonder what motivated
Someone to shoot him, in hatred
Now, his unborn niece and nephew won't ever meet him
They'll never get the opportunity to see how he'd treat em
Play him one on one, when they're grown, and finally beat him"

I probably
Therapy, Therapy, The-the-Therapy
I probably might need Therapy

Might need Therapy
Therapy, Therapy, The-the-Therapy
I probably might need Therapy

I probably
Therapy, Therapy, The-the-Therapy
I probably might need Therapy

Might need Therapy
Therapy, Therapy, The-the-Therapy
I probably might need Therapy

Now, we're at the funeral
Homegoing, as usual
The Limo outside is the only thing that seems beautiful
Placed my disbelief in a cubicle, colored it moveable
Then, pushed it back with my mental pseudo suitable cuticles

They asked me to say a prayer and not to stall
I start to cough, got me a glass of water
And drunk it all
I put my hands on the podium as I start to call
On the Lawd
But, before I could, my alarm went off