| Whaddya do. |
| when the people go home
|
| Ohwhaddya do. |
| when the show is all done
|
| I’m 25 now, and yeah I told my pops I tossed the towel in Makin music no longer easily make my smile bend
|
| Though, wows from the crowds ain’t end yet
|
| Them smiles and backpacks still ain’t helpin my rent checks
|
| Ain’t far from crack packs if I hurts these verses
|
| Flippin worse shit for an empty purse feels worthless
|
| Listen, word of mouth has been a blessing and a curse
|
| We reach heads, but the only red we see’s off shirt sales
|
| Tours and shows spread all over the earth, well
|
| Recoup gas and go tails back to this dirt, hells
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| Far away though, believe I ain’t complainin
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| Rather explainin, that unless this Southern rain end
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| We’ll sho’prove we’s as real as you |