| Got the weight of my team on my shoulders |
| Stones in my watch rock like boulders |
| Grave on my neck, this shit no one’s |
| Baby boy I feel like jodi |
| Easy come, easy go |
| My inbox full of |
| My insides full of chemicals |
| Killed the show, burn the venue up |
| Had your shot, but you missed this shit |
| Better made off of Michigan |
| Soon as I let them broke the bond out they hit me to fix this shit |
| Reminisce on my innocence |
| Basement boy really kick this shit |
| Gave my love and my energy to two-faces that ain’t no shit |
| Bet they living with they momma |
| But me and mine bought some commas |
| Ima cop a jet just to |
| And drop a tape the next morning |
| When you die ain’t no one mourning |
| Wrote this at 2 in the morning |
| I roll up 3 now I’m yawning |
| I pour anthrax in your soda |
| Ay lap it up, bitch get to leaning |
| Bag 'em up, see we them demons |
| Add it up, that’s 10 years deep |
| Real tree, so they yet to see me |
| Overlapping your boy and pass him |
| They get cash, but ain’t got the passion |
| Anytime I see a soda can like, «remember we used to scrap em?» |