Yeah, yeah
Sometimes it feels like
All I do is make beats, smoke weed
And come up with these hi-deas, crazy hi-deas
I just make beats smoke weed
And come up with these hi-deas
Uh, I took a puff-puff pass
Before I finished touching up the track
Now my minds racing in circles and running laps
Trying to figure what to write and come up with these raps
But I'm struggling and fighting trying to surpass my past
Scribbling these words with these concepts and topics
Feeling like my vocab has almost been exhausted
I'm burning out trying to come up with these hi-deas
Like here's an idea
I write a song about what I love and hate
Like I love to get the munchies but I hate the stomach aches
I love getting drunk but hate it the next morning
Hate the sound check, but always lovin' the performance
Love for the ladies with a lot of self confidence
But hate the attitude, learn to take a f*cking compliment
Hate for the critics and the, man forget it
It's back to the draw board let's give them what they calling for
I'm at so many people and been so many places
That's why I want to write a song called forgotten faces
A lot of friends have come and gone and I'll always remember them
But I can't put a picture in my head that resembles them
And these are real friends that I hung around like every day
They built my character and attitude in many ways
From my teacher to my coaches to my school yard friends
Maybe someday I'll see your face again
What a hi-dea
Aight, let me try something different
Bring the strings in
Uh, and I've been trying to write a love song for my girl since I met her
Something real romantic like let's get fat together
Sometimes nothings better than sitting on the couch eating whatever
Watching movie clips with taco chips and nacho dips and peppers (mm)
We had a couple ups and down and made it through
Love each other, our family, our sex and our food
These are words flowing on my pencil on this instrumental
Or maybe I should switch it up a bit adjust the tempo like
I change the beat if the topic ain't working
Fall on the floor that's perfect sounds current
Following the formula is that what you stand for?
How come all these douche bags keep running the dance floor?
Douche, douche, douche bag
Do it like this and you too can make a douche hit
You talk a big game but never gonna do shit
Your girl ain't smelling right, tell her douche it
Dance, nah f*ck it back to the music
I had this hi-dea about rock and roll
And how I think it's similar to the way that hip hop will grow
They thought it was a fad made by African Americans
And no mother or dad wanted any children hearing 'em
Hated by the church they called it devil music
Now these Christian rock bands encourages kids to do it
Time changes everything, I see it right now
It ain't just hip hop or rock and roll it's a lifestyle
And all I do is make beats, smoke weed
And come up with these hi-deas, crazy hi-deas
I just make beats, smoke weed
And come up with these hi-deas, yeah
And now I'm getting so high
And now I'm getting so high, yeah
I was goin' to write a track called clichés
Just talk about all those clichés you see
Those clichés you hear in life and music
I'm crazy for this one
I was goin' to write a track called small town
I come from a small town
Where things are a little bit slower
Everybody knows your name, it's just a little different
I was goin' to write a track called
I know I shouldn't do it but I love to
Like smoking this weed, guilty pleasures, aha
Yeah, crazy hi-deas