Song 31

All my everything is for you
All my terrible sense of humor and critical interviews
All my pearly gated redemption and causal afternoons
All this money you know I'm making like racing against the moon, but
I sell pain for profit
And I feel prophet watching
Everything is for everything rhyming with causality,
Ain't no labels that's backing me but my tickets be selling out
And I'm steady raising my feetus, another hit from the fee
This another hit from the phone
110 degrees in the desert heat
With a bubble coat, turtleneck underneath
Rolling up on the beach
Smoking a holy weed
Laughing baking my homie Tee
hoping joking is all we need
When I sell pain for profit
Now I binge watch Atlanta
No more TV representation from a Kelsy Grammer
Let's toast to niggas getting checks who work behind the camera
Somebody raise they man up

Truth be told
I wear my heart on my sleeve
Watch you sit it on the shelf
Now my body got cold
I swear we'll never leave
Had to do it for myself
To find my praise
Go, get your weapon

Real recognize real feeling like real proof
Real buddy-buddy after the trip to the Cancun
Million dollar baby bet you can get to the hands too
Got a pack of wolves ready to damage a full moon
The only bitch actually rapping, it look like me now
Or meow
Kitty just reimagined a freestyle
Dm flooded niggas still waiting for me to reach out
We shadow boxing government hoping they put the leash down
I sell pain for profit not propaganda
I know cancers origins link to Santa
I know Santa's origins link to money
Mass production of cattle, a slaughtering for the yummy
These niggas is clever, the prison no better
The ghost of the living
We ain't talk about Reggie on Christmas we almost forget him
What's a casket to a holding cell if a nigga ain't in it
Only reason why I'm steady faded and still independent

Truth be told
I wear my heart on my sleeve
Watch you sit it on the shelf
Now my body got cold
I swear we'll never leave
Had to do it for myself
To find my praise
Go, get your weapon