Ok, look. I'm honest. Girl I can't lie I miss you. You and the music were the only things that I'd commit to
I could teach you how to speak my language, Rosetta Stone.
Girls countin on me to be there like missin rubbers.
Seeing my family have it all took the place of that desire for diplomas on the wall
I come alive in the night time
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.