Untitled Song

Sick to my mother-lovin’ stomach (to the left!)

Y’all still chirpin’, but I’m numb to the mess (to the left!)

They say I dress bummy, but the fit cost a check

And I ate off pain, turned a scar to respect

Poppin’ since back when I scribbled on napkins

Labels ain’t believe it, now they cryin’ in captions

Never popped bottles, but I ghostwrite captions

Snatched your girl mid-rant, now you tweetin’ in fractions

Look, meet me halfway, but I’m wild with the mileage

Still don’t fold, got no code of silence

Told my old self, “We gon’ glow through the violence”

Now I’m in the mirror like, “Bro, we the virus”