调：A minor•
Verse 1
my mom and dad fightin'
I moved around a lot, I did a lot of fightin'
I met my friend Ian, I seen a lot of cyphers
I did a lot of writin'−
Watch my uncles duck indictments
I'm used to ramen noodles,
Products of neighborhoods with broken
souls and wounded spirits
Don't judge me by appearance
(I moved to California)
Started gettin' paid (Nigga, you
broke,) shit's already borin'
Dashin' to the money like a hyphen
Fuck a pipe dream, man,
had this shit when I was in my diapers
Burnin' through my diapers, hot shit
It was hot shit, back when niggas
lookin' for the Loch Ness
Stuck 'round dip spittin' assholes,
shoes full of cash though
Cigar, Fidel Castro, car full of Castrol
See the sunset when I backstroke, can't
swim but I could act though
with imaginary friends
Imagine havin' no friends,
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