| Yeah
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| No matter what plane I’m inside of and what ocean I’m on top of
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| Distance from everything is still the problem
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| Everyone I need is down thousands of feet
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| And everyone who’s with me now, I pay 'em to be
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| I’m in Germany with merch money in my lap
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| But all I think about is my mom is home with a bad back
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| And every Monday she’s hunched over, draggin' out the trash
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| That should be me
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| But she won’t say it 'cause she don’t want to distract
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| I don’t even talk to dad, I think that whole thing is ruined
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| He don’t reach out 'cause he just feels like he’s intruding
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| But I don’t reach out
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| 'Cause every time we catch up it’s so obvious
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| These are things we shouldn’t just be catching up about, like
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| What country you in? |
| What house you been staying in?
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| What’s your manager’s name again? |
| How much you payin' him?
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| I don’t blame him though, I don’t keep him up to speed
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| If I’m not a bad son, I’m probably somewhere in between
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| Now when I get recognized in public, they say I’m standoffish
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| Really I’m just awkward when I’m talking
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| When you see how shy I am, you probably think that I ain’t poppin'
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| So when you call my name, don’t call it again if I ain’t respondin'
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| But my producer hang with artists who are way bigger than me
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| And they get recognized every time in the street
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| So when I’m with my producer out to eat
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| I pray a fan approaches so I can make him say
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| «True, he’s doing his thing too»
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| Shit I ain’t famous, guess I’m somewhere in between
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| If I was famous, I wouldn’t have to promote my song on this livestream
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| 'Cause my manager told me to, he said my plays aren’t the best
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| So I fake a smile to hundreds of fans like
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| «It's my fastest growing yet! |
| Look I’m happy, don’t forget!»
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| Mom’s back is broke again
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| Still tryna get me off pills that control the stress
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| How I’m supposed to tell my older sister that I’m still depressed?
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| With merch money in my lap, but she ain’t made a fucking dollar yet
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| Today I read a comment telling me that I’m a gimmick
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| With controversial storylines to get attention
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| A few fans came to my defense like «We were boys»
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| I wanted to tell those fans that maybe he has a point
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| I wrote a song about a kid who got bullied, it’s called «Exception»
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| And the part I didn’t mention was Andy was a real person
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| And someone I befriended
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| Then I left him for another group of friends who used to torment him
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| I made money of off «Exception» and off of Andy
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| In interviews they treated me like a hero
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| I wrote a song about how fucked up social media was
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| And started dating a chick who wanted me to post her to get her followers up
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| So no matter how many fuckin' comments that I read
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| Tellin' me how much that I’ve helped them to grow and follow their dreams
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| I’ma still feel like a coward, the hero just ain’t me
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| But to make them feel better, just tell them I’m somewhere in between
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| Between somewhere
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| Yeah, ayy
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| Success is coming in heavy, I think I’m changing already
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| My life is intimidating so friends just want to impress me
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| Some wear Supreme to impress, some bring a gun to impress me
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| But none of that does impress me
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| Whether if it’s love or envy
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| Mark was tryin' to get me with Em, I told him I wasn’t ready
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| Maybe that was a mistake
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| Maybe I would’ve blown up already
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| Wonder if Interscope was mad that I didn’t pick up when they called again
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| Subliminal disses from legends are still compliments
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| Tour money had me talkin' shit
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| 'Til I spend sixty thousand on clothes and went broke
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| Manager screamed at me, watch your tone
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| See, when couple thousand in the crowd tell me yes
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| It’s hard to tell me no
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| I’m still in Germany with merch money in my lap, bitch
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| I’m countin' it even if I already double checked
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| There’s no better feeling than holding your parents rent
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| I know I could still fail, but they only see success
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| And I’m somewhere in between it
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| This plane is too high, you can’t reach it
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| No service, no service, no service, I got no plan
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| Ain’t nobody knockin' on my door except the post man |