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The fan-favorite path paver who had to span acres

From gardeners who had each olive-branch razored

And I was but low-hanging fruit, to landscapers...

You know that feelin', when you go off tellin'

White lies to untrustworthy nosies smellin'...

They find out, and make it a moral failin'

Negative suspicions get a bolstered fill-in...

I see self-righteousness stuck holy-grailin'

Deaf ears to hear-out but dole-out tales in,

Your struggle, no offers to shoulder helpin'

House of cards like a broken home I'm, chosen to lay hold the torch rebuildin'

It's cruel but worth more than moolah when my medulla regroups standin'

No hula no hoop dancin', no stoopin' to lows as they rally their troops chattin'

And that's what happened, oops, tryna' to corner me with snooped answers

From bread-crumbers who turn a nothing burger, into a poop sandwich...

Prying eyes could scale back a carapace, but

I'm observant enough for nailing the air of 'em

So their opinions are so much as barely embarrassin'

When my dark secrets are lowkey pale in comparison.