/Two tone Terry, race traitor, play savior/ Listen, they say later, treat me like gay neighbor/ Outcast, not looked upon with the same favor/ Say I'm the correct spelling of Fiasco's "Lasers"/ Driven off emotion, that's what the speeds for/ Uncomfortably funny, like messiahs and street whores/ If you aren't original, the hell you speak for?/ Always thought that I might mean more/


(Hook)
/Scarlet letter symphonies
/Sleep deprived epiphanies/
Adrift in all the industry/
/Dope but yet I’m sick of me/

/Time’s acquired a stitch from me/
/A quip, a lick of spit from me/
Convinced that I’m the industry/
/Dope but yet I’m sick of me/

(Verse 2)
/Instead I live in my head, speak the color of red/ No gang, it’s for the blood that almost led me to bed/ Feeding demons cheap pints while I’m swallowing smoke/ Hollowing hope as I write, ears following notes/ Beer stained roots run deep, in the premature trees/ Burn, coupled, pops from the premature seeds/ Plain black tee, khaki shorts to the knee/ Dressed down as the sound that speaks from under me/ 

(Hook)
/Scarlet letter symphonies
/Sleep deprived epiphanies/
Adrift in all the industry/
/Dope but yet I’m sick of me/

/Time’s acquired a stitch from me/
/A quip, a lick of spit from me/
Convinced that I’m the industry/
/Dope but yet I’m sick of me/

(Verse 3)
Living life close to edge/ Am I living? Or am I closer to dead?/ The cost of living is goin' over my head/ I can't even call it/ Can't even tell if I've been flying or falling/ Can't even tell if they lying or ballin'/ Ya'll call it/ I'm tryna Shyne, like that dude that did time for Puffy/ And I want cream, so the fucking FEDS can't touch me/ Is that too much to ask? Is it too much for cash?/ Is it..just so bad, to live just for flash?/ Tired of havin' to heat up a flask/ Out of cheddar, on the block, with a Glock/ To heat up yo ass/ Whether I sing, rap, draw/ Usually 'cididy n***a/ Now this shit is just raw, now I'm just a gritty n***a/ All my thoughts, usually/ Is computated and overrated/ Now it's just complicated...and I hate it/ I can't even sit back, I can't even relax/ Now I'm lookin' for doors to kick back/ And kids to kidnap/ Ya'll best believe that/ It's gonna get rougher this year/ A whole lot tougher this year/ Ya'll motherfucker's finna suffer this year/