This is a song about "Being outnumbered"

And i can see us after school, we'd bomb

Im tired of being slepted on

A childhood being depressed,

And i ain't never left

For going on being

Let my angel sing

You, you, you have to pay for that

Fuck being counterfeit

No, i can’t called bitch i’m lying, i don’t use my phone, shit

To being a being and beating the back roads and being it

It's like being in a breadbox, but only being a crumb

Kickin' in the door, and i'm everybody problem

See originally i was free before being cool was just being me

It's difficult to let it goi'm startin' to loose my hair cause i worry

When i write rhymes i go blind and let the lord do his thing

Outnumbered by cowards in colors/ rumbling/