Look
The place is packed I'm in a room of my own
The train derailed in my thoughts it's chaos all in my dome
So I hopped on a track, I keep on spinning these
Records, stayin positive always seems to bring enemies
I'm just talking, blowing smoke like a chimney
Tryna make people think wit metaphors and the similes,
But it never works my generation is dead,
Well really we're like zombies we're up and searching for head.
Get it?
Ghetto slang cuz I'm ghetto still.
Barely 16 prefer to rap it acapella still.
Pack your bags and take a trip to my thoughts,
These bars of gold worth more than the jewelry I bought.
ILL