| Beer goggles, fear nada | 
| My tears dry slow | 
| Used to stay up 'til 1am | 
| Just to watch the Apollo | 
| Used to be scared to sleep | 
| My mother might be dead when I woke | 
| Reminiscin', heavy visions | 
| Gave me chills while I wrote | 
| Parasuco’s, late night | 
| Ironing my school clothes | 
| Cut party, bumpin' NEXT | 
| «Baby Getting' Too Close» | 
| We was only humpin' | 
| I was suckin' titties then | 
| Then shit got serious | 
| All my niggas hustlin' | 
| I was broke as fuck | 
| My best friend was gettin' money | 
| 2.5 had the Porsche | 
| The GS, we was stuntin' | 
| Played my little songs in his Range | 
| We was frontin' | 
| Young, totin' guns just for fun | 
| Never bust 'em | 
| Hypnotic and Hennessy | 
| Enemies, we jumped them | 
| Rumbling in the jungle | 
| While we stumblin' | 
| Wondering, what we done | 
| To become hunted | 
| Jumped in the Devil’s cauldron | 
| With the dumplings | 
| From then, my only function been malfunction | 
| (Rhythmic Gibberish) | 
| My dick floatin' in the bubble bath | 
| Plottin' out my future | 
| Reflectin' on my past | 
| Livin' the now, cause the now is perfect | 
| You can’t spoil now | 
| The just then, she took off her towel | 
| Gave me head like she worship me | 
| Like we was married in a past life | 
| Like she was readin' me my last rites | 
| Gift and a curse, it’s your worst | 
| Usurped in inertia | 
| Your persistent peril | 
| To quench your thirst for nirvana | 
| Condoms and sewer water, filled with regrets | 
| I moved and put no furniture in my crib | 
| Suffocated by my success | 
| My destiny sweats | 
| Skewing my vision,? | 
| Fuel my indecision | 
| I ain’t dissin', I’m just venting | 
| Fuck that nigga | 
| That whole shit was my fault | 
| For deferring from my mission | 
| Tell my niggas, never count my money | 
| Tell these leechin' ass bitches | 
| Stay the fuck from me | 
| Tell my OGs I love them | 
| Never doubt my judgement | 
| I got some things in my head | 
| That I can’t discuss with them | 
| And that’s hard | 
| Bombarded by bombs | 
| They can blow your ass apart | 
| My moms got cancer, told me when I got off tour | 
| And it put in perspective what was most important | 
| With 'em chasin' | 
| The fuckin'? | 
| that I’m caught in | 
| Deals with Satan | 
| The same shit I was avoiding | 
| Became the same shit I turned around and deemed important | 
| I need my soul | 
| Badly eatin' at my sanity | 
| My inner sanctum’s being sacrificed for vanity | 
| See, I’m forgettin' who I am | 
| Or who I planned to be | 
| And all my niggas ain’t no help | 
| They just as scared as me | 
| Remember 'fore ?, swore we’d never change, y’all | 
| Now we all afraid to talk | 
| But got the same thoughts | 
| Perplexin' how you can have everything you want | 
| But at the same time have nothin' at all | 
| I don’t need nobody’s approval |