I said I prolly tried a thousand moves up in my head

All so I could come correct

But what's correct when any move you make could cost a arm and leg?

In retrospect, I might be better off to walk it on a limp

All these visions in my head, they prolly should be paying rent

Can't stay content, until I get them out the box that they up in

Then wrap it up and ship it right to you just for your listening

Take missing ends, from my thoughts and tie them up just like some knots

On 808s that fucking knock, make speakers pop

Learned from my pops, raised by my moms

But every time I make a track it feel like it's a ticking bomb, Kaboom

But every track I drop recorded in my room

Get off the mic, hop in my sheets just like a damn cocoon

'Cause I'm just working, being patient, chilling in my tomb

But anyone that's in the way they 'bout to see some doom

That's inspiration mixed with greatness, decent combination

Scratching the surface of this game you see my damn abrasions

Don't get shit mistaken, still got plans for some world domination

But until then I'll keep on cooking shit just from my basement

Yeah