| Figure its A Clockwork Orange how I’m pardoned wit the top of it
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| Leave it up to me to see the bottomless, bottom is
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| Meaning what the moral or the object of the riding is
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| Told 'em all before, no Radames, riding with
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| All or nothing now, couple dreams in a duffle
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| Damier’s all around it, guess a dream might run you
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| And the run’s a 100 yarder, the dash mite barter
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| And you tryna shake a Dash like a Carter
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| I’m tryna play the back as a starter, the irony in that
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| Wanting all of it but wanting no part of the react
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| I react like, all we ever wanted was to be up
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| Nobody could guard us but regardless they should lead us?
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| Still playing ringer, told me chill while they king him
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| Background live or die, they can still raise a finger
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| Those around us can see the same tent
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| Windex the roof, it only makes sense
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| It’s all glass ceilings
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| All glass ceilings
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| Tryna see whatever
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| All for that feeling
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| High enough to let up
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| Low enough to feel it
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| Probably forever
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| Blowing thru the ceiling
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| Looking for it 'til its all said
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| And then it feels like when they killed Cornbread
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| Or Cochise, or Voletta’s son
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| The common thread?, its prolly better if you never run
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| Or find a ledge that you can level if they ever come
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| I’m 'bout this bread, God bless you if I’m ever shunned
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| Say I took it just the way that I was taught to
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| You wait and you’ll be laid when they applaud you
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| You say that if I lost you there’s nothing left to seek out
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| I say that if I lost you, you wasn’t supposed to be found, so we out
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| We out, outside living like this outside living wasn’t out the side limits
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| Or living like the roof up above us wasn’t loose enough to touch us
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| Mu’fuckas wasn’t true enough to love us
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| And all of those around us can see the same tent
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| Windex the roof, it only makes sense
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| Big money in my sentence
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| Sleep ain’t what it was, it come a little different
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| If we can’t cover up then cut a little distance
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| Each and everyone of us just want it how we live it |