| Yo, yo! | 
| Popeye kickin' the can but never eats the spinach | 
| Seems I never reach the goal but always meet the finish | 
| Though, I know my heart, goes | 
| I feel my heart, go | 
| I know my heart, goes | 
| Yes, still my heart, goes, goes | 
| So, I had to bite the bullet, the casing, the trigger | 
| My nigga said, «Sun never felt so, blah; | 
| sleep never felt so, yawn» | 
| Cleon could’ve been that dude, no one remembers though | 
| Posse moved on? | 
| Possibly here (yeah), possibly long gone | 
| Finna slow cook from Midwestern warm storms | 
| The story goes | 
| See hot pot touch hot pot, I’ll never know | 
| Third, four, fifth degree, makes no diff- to he (Ow!) | 
| I’ll never say «peace out,» I just peace out | 
| They at me at me | 
| Wiley Coyote 'cause all my great regrets, always define my image | 
| Seems I never reach the goal but always meet the finish | 
| Popeye kickin' the can but never eats the spinach | 
| Though, I know my heart, goes | 
| Yet still my heart, goes | 
| So, I guess I’m still alive | 
| Guess being fresh to death can’t help the fire of death inside | 
| Maybe it’s all a lie | 
| Or maybe I survived on being I and got some karma on my side, Not sure why, | 
| they say I’m a good guy | 
| I guess I’ll take they word, it’s more a burden to deny | 
| At times I’m going crazy trying to renovate my mind like bro from Pi | 
| Either cool is just a guise, or the same, maybe the fool is the disguise | 
| I open up my eyes, and spin in three-six-oh degrees | 
| And see «Spy Versus Spy» within me, plottin' how to end it | 
| Wiley Coyote great regrets always define my image | 
| Seems I never reach the goal but always meet the finish | 
| Popeye kickin' the can but never eats the spinach | 
| Though, I know my heart, goes | 
| Yet still my heart, goes | 
| I know my heart, goes | 
| I feel my heart, go, go, go | 
| I know my heart, goes | 
| I know my heart, goes | 
| I know my heart, goes | 
| I know my heart, goes | 
| …you is great, I wish I could be you more often! |