I'm about to reach my dreams and I aint even got my arms stretched.
Burn bread every day boy, no toaster
When I'm writing, I'm thinking about how the songs are going to play live. Fifty bars of rap don't translate onstage. No matter how potent the music, you lose the crowd. They want a hook; they want to sing your stuff back to you.
A lot of people sayinโ f*** me. Problem is they be telling everybody but me.
I am what everybody in my past don't want me to be
Word on road is the clique about to blow. You ain't gotta run and tell nobody they already know