Cause everybody worried 'bout money and bitches
But I'm just tryna get my mind out the ditches without stitches
A two-six in one hand, the other holding on to paracord
Slowly grinding down on the statue
That's my rock, one thing left that I still know
If it's a C note, play it hard like you was a hoe
If it's anything else, uh, then play it all the same
I'm tired of never getting a word
Someday I'll be flying high, taking in the sky
I wonder if clouds feel like building a rhyme
And if I leap off the building will it be cheaper for time
Or should the presence of I be kept under an eye
Vigilantly insured, down to make the keys sore
Everybody hate him, till he wanna go to war
Ain't nobody see him, someday he will reach the status
Static on a wall looking down