[Verse 1: Chris Rivers]
There's a whole lot of, soul drama
My own mama broke, so only knows O's with no comma
It's so cold, 40 below, don't own Prada
I've been dreaming, dealing, screaming where demons got throat trauma
My quotes kinda rose like the crows dove, throw lies uh
Jims can hit a word I'm never coming in
Through the pain, I O2 like oxygen
Oxymoron, the opposite of profitin'
Turn the kid into a prophet, empty pockets shift
I'm from a place where poppa split, either that or dead beat and yo' momma
Gritted teeth, and bare sweated, the air's different
Can cut the tension with a pair of ham scissors
Impairs vision, and sheer thickness, I will
Make you wish you wasn't, fuck a wishless cousin
Brother, sister, mother, gather on Christmas
Ain't shit nice, say niggas bucking
[Hook: Chris Rivers x2]
Runnin', runnin', runnin', runnin', something's coming
Never look back, trip, or stumbling
Runnin', runnin', runnin', runnin'
Suckas fronting from the hood, that keeps on jumping
[Verse 2]
There's a whole lot of, brain matter
That ain't scattered, through all the smoke
I broke jokes like cake batter, I never choked
Never revoked my pain, an-a-sthesia
Leave the scene, see the stage ladder
Never fall, he saw walls and clawed
He crawled off, he walked, he fought
All he brought was deep thoughts and talked
Like he bought these Jordans, he's brought
Tony Hawk kickflip wrong, his face shattered
It ain't mattered, he pieces peace on sheets
Of loose leaf, and loosely, to proof he new heat
And prove to lose, you must choose to use sheep
Run for fourteen days for all who assumed he's too weak
Nigga, who he? I'm usually cool, truancy pool
Was foolish in school chasing type pussy
No geeks, fuck a Burberry too and who does
See through, the Tomfoolery, who
Could beat me and who else could be you?
It's like