Truth be told this rap game is mundane
as public education, where they dumb the babies,

and the teachers play around, with the future of a god forsaken nation
I know, don’t nobody wanna hear about that,
they rather I close a book and take it back to the trap
I know I’m playin with danger, got me feelin like baby Jesus in the manger
so I make bangers to get them devils up off me
kill em slow, mastered my craft this life fell like I done lived it before
so how i end up at the liquor store again
playin with temptation and it always win in the end
then i end up thinking about the women i players and shoulda did better
its a cold world when karma come around, now I’m mobbing the streets in this weather with a thin sweaterHow you feel about it/ how you feel about her
Gotta let her know 2xI promise I’m in tune, ya’ll the ones trippin
I drop jewel for the goons and the ones living
addicted to that silver spoon out there in the suburbs
where the grass is always green, not the lawn the herb
the ones who realize silence is consent
and honest bout the politics within
the land of the free been thuggin
how u think they at the top
and every pastor got himself a BenzWhere the passion where the struggle where yo story at
where to hustle where yo grind where yo money at?
did u pay dues or did ya let ya self get used for propaganda to guarantee u don’t lose
so many questions, not enough time to answer
is it really a choice tween broke and buying a phantom
not for the kids in the ghetto
down the street from the kids learning cello
wondering where what they eat tonight
too many syrup sandwiches ya’ll think and why they aint thinking right.

Hold your breath and count to ten,

You can’t hide here,

You can’t fight here.

Breath i n and try again,

The old familiar feeling.

Pull me under,

And heal the bones that feel alone,

A voice in my head said,

You can always talk about it.

The more you run,

The more you fear,

The more you waste,

The less you care.

The lonely ones,

The lonely ones,

The lonely ones.

Don’t you ever have to talk about it?

With your back to the wall you’re a loaded gun,

Undone.

Don’t you ever have the fear about it?

When it’s stacked in your favour,

But it comes out wrong,

Undone,

Undone.

So the writings on the wall,

But you don’t know it,

Cos you don’t own it.

And all the people you lean on,

Well you all owe them,

And you don’t know it.

Pull me under,

And heal the bones that feel alone,

A voice in my head said.

The more you run,

The more you fear,

The more you waste,

The less you care.

The lonely ones,

The lonely ones,

The lonely ones.

Don’t you ever have to talk about it?

With your back to the wall you’re a loaded gun,

Undone.

Don’t you ever have the fear about it?

When it’s stacked in your favour,

But it comes out wrong,

Undone,

Undone.