I'm driving in a stolen truck, and i'm probably fucking drunk
They let me know who i am, busting out of containment
Been bad all my life, i was raised in the hood
And i don't cook much but i'm tough with that phone book
What do you see in my hood, i see faggots everywhere, everywhere,
Meet me in the tele where the lobby at, i'm probably there
I love the sound of dying sluts in my cage all locked up
Drinking liquor and i'm looking for some hoes to fuck
I won't go out with my friends, instead i sit in my room and write poetry,
To him, nothing is funnymind set on one thing, making his money
That it's not fake, and tomorrow instead of drowning in my sorrows i gleam
Hostile with them hoes, i got a dollar in my pocket plus a dream
And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree
Burrowed out in victory for somebody i don't see seeing me
Got me waking up at 4 just so i can write instead
- or i'mma fuckin' put this gun in your fuckin' head
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