Yo, party people in the place to be. Yo, this is Cool Calm Pete. I'mma do this in G minor

It go: lost in the season. Running out of choices

Hard to cope with these lingering voices

It's hopeless—I got problems with authority

It's like the moral of the story is calling me

With silly pranks like "You ain’t gonna win, kid

This game is bugged—these kids done jinxed it"

Fix these plans. I got hopes and dreams, son

Rolling downhill and the year has just begun

I seen America lonely with its dick hard

Hello. Wrote this on the back of a greeting card

From this bleeding heart dripping down a bitter start

It's these lessons you learn from that time apart

Pull my guns out, shooting at the TV

So medicated, man, I damn missed the TV

But news is syndicated—go catch the repeats

No place to hide. Run amok in the streets

Lost in the city, running out of choices

Going nowhere fast, still hearing voices

Come on, legs. Come on feet

I’m just tryna make a little bit of history

It’s like you write with a sharpie and you made a fine point

Not all city—you hitting up the 5 Pointz

Jonesing for another attack next wave

You're fake stunts that’s strictly for super Dave

Sun don’t shine. Now kiss the ass cheeks

These cats keep testing, lost their cheat sheets

If you’ve got questions, then you must ask Pete

The antidote over these working-class beats

Woke up in the P.M. The face is all crusty

My feet cold. Even the kicks are dusty

I’m snowed in. I plowed through these negatives

It's such a pain when the bullshit's repetitive

So why bother even taking these next steps?

Even yesterday is harder to recollect

Muster it up and step out of the house

Take a little trip and start turning it out

Lost in the city, running out of choices

Going nowhere fast, still hearing voices

Come on, legs. Come on feet

I’m just tryna make a little bit of history

I’m home sick, rocking a New York logo

It's only been a week and you ain’t made no dough (Oh)

Well that blows and these are the breaks

A tall order of beef is high stakes

This is dedicated to the ones who think they getting old

Since childhood, they’ve been calling you an old soul

Now bop that head—it's hip hop irony

For twenty-some odd years probably

Acting the same way—ain’t nothing really change

Maybe that internet and new heads to blame

Glimpse of the future making these toes curl

And maybe then I'll stop spying on my ex-girl

In this world, famous to nameless

None of it is easy and none of it is painless

Weightless on the moon, watching the Earth turn (Turn)

Time on your side and got money to burn (Burn)

Got a new watch and got heat in the house

Got rhymes, got beats, no kids, no spouse

And I'mma turn it out

Yo, it's my turn baby. I'mma turn it out

Yo, it's my turn baby. I'mma turn it out

Yo, it's my turn baby. I'mma turn it out

Yo, it's my turn baby. I'mma turn it out

Yo, it's my turn baby. I'mma turn it out