Walk a mile in my shoes, that ain’t enough, go run a marathon
Everyday I wake up is a race, that’s how I carry on
To get back to my sleep where I can dream about this very song
Take a flight tonight with half a milli in my carry-on
I’m back up off my singsong sh#t, nah I ain’t shittin’ you
Spittin’ eights and sixteens like factors back in middle school
And I’m glad I’m not the type to go attack a happy llama
Tryna act like an alpaca just to wind up the bottom
Got a lotta problems sittin in my pocket they remind me of
b#tch I don’t need reminders when I’m higher than the sky above
My therapist just hit me asked me “why you even need the bud?”
I told him “I don’t need the bud, I need to feed these demons, bruh”
This that MI drivers’ lifestyle, every road has got a dozen bumps
But Imma need a few to even feel the rest, f#ck one and done
Tryna put a damp on my plans when there’s a grant in my hands
Never really thought you cared ‘cept for the grand in my hands
I been here for eight months, you ain’t even water the plants
That’s why the AC ain’t running, when it’s eighty, like damn
I got a bone to pick and a boner to hide
‘Cause you don’t know how much I wanna f#ck this up from inside
These f#cking losers butterfingers, I got a 100 Grand from ’em
Don’t say I’m no loser, please just check the damn budget, please
I’m up climbing the ranks just to divide the whole place
I’m an agent of chaos in the silence I make
And like the Mario Movie, my life is a movie
You gon’ see the final cut by the end of this doobie, yeah
It’s Drew
b#tch
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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