I’m Not a Saint

I'm not perfect
 I'm not perfect
 ♪
 That ain't right
 That ain't right
 That ain't right
 That ain't right
 Animosity surround me
 And it's all because I found me
 How deceptive can the clown be?
 Enough to leave the frowns upon the face of those who foul me
 So much evil in my mindstate
 Many think that they can define Yates
 But can not tame the wicked primate
 Who preaches sinful thoughts and lead the listeners on blind faith
 I didn't mean to hurt a soul here
 But my inner demon has no fear
 Of making choices that'll make you po' tears
 Black transparent flies show me that the soul near
 I see 'em then they disappear quickly
 Could this be some other shadows signaling the sickly?
 Forgive me
 Good people, I gotta let them know before they pick me
 I tell 'em (I'm not a saint,) no, (oh my Lord)
 I'm crying out
 I'm crying out
 I tell 'em (I'm not a saint,) no, (oh my Lord)
 That ain't right
 That ain't right
 That ain't right
 That ain't righ
 Brian Dennis was in love with her
 I exchanged kisses and hugs with her
 I never should've but I dugged in her
 Never say no names but her thing was that she loved pictures
 Another nigga told my nigga
 His reply to me was "Why nigga?"
 I learned my vices, they divide niggas
 Had a chance to say I'm sorry and then he died
 Man...
 So hurt that I couldn't stand
 Meanwhile my dark blob expands
 And touching my loved ones dissolving their helping hands
 My heart loves
 My brain takes
 They never know they stepping with a bane date
 I put a gun to my insane face
 That way your loving hearts I can't break
 I tell 'em (I'm not a saint,) no, (oh my Lord)
 I'm crying out
 I'm crying out
 I tell 'em (I'm not a saint,) no, (oh my Lord)
 That ain't right
 That ain't right
 That ain't right
 That ain't righ
 Black transparent flies again
 Could be spots on your eyes, my friend
 I thought that the love was gonna try to win
 But now I see I'm stuck in here to see the evil rise again
 My brain is so gung-ho
 This all started when I was young though
 This thing I won't keep running from so:
 I got molested by my 7th grade teacher, Mrs. [censored]
 I tell 'em (I'm not a saint,) no, (oh my Lord)
 I'm crying out
 I'm crying out
 I tell 'em (I'm not a saint,) no, (oh my Lord)
 That ain't right
 That ain't right
 That ain't right
 That ain't righ
 ♪
 Damn... To the people who love me, I apologize for me back then.
 I was intoxicated, I was on drugs, and now there's a new me.
 Now let's turn up.