[Verse One]
Found my faith in the same place that I lost it
I pray last year is my last taste of the coffin
Loved ones never forgotten as they're always in my conscience
Been this way since eight hallways filled to the brim with nothing but nonsense
Your latest song perceived as a novelty, come follow me
My new tracks were said to be a prophecy, well probably
In a world where everyone's nostalgia is suburban home lore
I get nostalgia from cigarеtte smoke and corner storе galore
The lights flicker with the air drenched with the scent of hard liquor
I can see through you, it ain't hard to pull apart Richard
Rappers think they're kings until somebody else pulls their card
We shuffle our moves together until everything else falls in place
Was never really into card games to be brutally honest
It's too many jokers in the cards I was dealt, they're stupid retarded
Too many self-proclaimed kings and queens, I wanna see the real thing
And judging by their actions, everybody's moving filthy
I see egos and those braggadocious ethos
Playing pretend so they tote sticks hopefully to feel real
You're swimming with the sharks but can't see underwater
Shallow minded, they're all headed for the slaughter
[Verse Two]
He's a dickhead, for what though?
He ain't hard, no cutthroat
The melodies got to his mental, he's starting to think that he's Deathstroke
Rap fantasy like he's not broke
Veggies kick dirt, they artichoke
Not everyone's meant for what they think they are
Topics you don't see as familiar
Rappers get their garments in a twist when they see this
You think that you're him, I guess Superman is bleeding
Nowadays everyone is bulletproof and invincible
In the game full-time, you're the type to lose your principles
Somehow you have opps too, I find it hilarious
Music is polluted, you notice rap has mass hysteria
When Juice came out, everybody said that they're depressed now
Same way when Durk came up, rappers got checks now
Blow most your rent on debt and maybe some textile
To post to a social captioned: Everybody check out my style!
And somehow your wrist as cold as freezers in Moscow
If you really live like that, why not help your mom out?
Priorities that matter at the bottom of his bucketlist
All I hear is clatter, rather go, "I've had enough of this"
At the verge, jump off a cliff, tell you to suck a dick
I can't even function, it's so boring and nobody touches it
I don't care about the clique you're saying that you're rolling with
It's just lots of things to think about when you're growing quick
I'm so sorry for your dillema, L-O-L, woe is me
Checking off my hitlist, past due for my groceries
Egg heads get cracked next, scribble it now
I'm focused on this cheese and bread, I need to get out of town
My boys in the back going bananas when I make a move
Don't conform to the rest of the aisle because that's what cages do
I'm one of the last artists without a G in their MO
Genetically modified conscience, tell the industry to go die slow
Tell an A&R that they should shut their pie hole
Bloggers can write about it too, call me everything that's vile
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