I’m just a kid from Atlanta livin’ down in New Orleans.
All these fools at my school so rich you could say I’m one of the poor kids.
I don’t get to go home this summer. They be like, “Oh you poor kid.”
And I’m like “hell yeah,” just hope this shit’s not too borin’."
I’ll just stick to recordin’, work a job, find people to chill with.
People who deal and people who feel me on the appeal of a full spliff.
Yeah my sitch not too bullshit, but It’s still my fault. I’m the culprit.
This my year to suffer ‘cause handcuffs kill my license to pull shit.
Yeah, my license was pulled quick when I refused to comply,
which is why I’m stayin’ down here. I won’t have to catch a ride
to make a dime. I’ll ride my bike or hop a streetcar. I’ll be fine.
Yeah, I’ll miss my homies too much, but I’ll learn a few things, spread my wings, and fly.
Fuel the fire of my dreams. Won’t retire ‘til I’m king.
Tilt my head back to the sky and cry.

Maybe I’ll be home next year. Man, I couldn't really tell ya.
A year’s a long time, but as of now I’m like hell yeah.
Gets me down, but then well yeah, missin’ memories, my fellas.
They’ll compel ya, but when there’s no one checkin’ up there’s no rebellion.
I’m revelin’ at the prospect of that workin’ atmosphere.
Food for thought: that FruityLoops will be my brain’s favorite meal.
I got a deal. That’s how I’ll cope with both a desk job and my peers.
Fuckin’ summer school, feel bad for you. I’m here ‘cause my parents’ will.
Which is cool. I’ll make the best of it. My fault options are limited.
But they’ll pay me pretty well. I’ll make at least a couple Benjamins.
Mom said shit’ll be sweet, but I’m conflicted, more like cinnamon.
I’ll miss my friends, straight solo dolo chillin’ like a villain man.
Yeah, until we chill again…
Shit. I’ll miss y’all ‘til the end.

Lord have mercy on me.
We’re talkin’ about two different things.
Bad decisions and life when you’re 19.
Lord have mercy on me.

The thing I’m mostly worried about is livin’ in a ghost town,
though it’ll probably do me good to take a second and slow down,
drop a record, and show how I can conquer this whole town.
Least it’ll be a baby step to gain respect through my dope sounds.
Lemme give ya the low down: Plan to plan to get some shows.
Kill at least a couple of sets maybe my following will grow.
I’m just hoping for the best, believe in myself, and fuck it who knows?
Man, I’m in in for the love. I’ll take this shit as far as it goes.
Pump the brakes, man. Put it on hold. Duckin’ back into the laboratory.
When you’re workin’ a desk job is it straight to dip use the lavatory?
Take a trip, buy a pack, and pour me a Coke and Jack celebratory?
Ha probably not. Chill out. That way I’m back for more see
I’ma do this shit and best believe I’ll do it right.
Though I've fucked up in the past, I refuse to add woes to my plight like.

I hate I gotta say it, but suspicions creep and crawl
down the hall of my awareness. I’m uneasy, can’t be calm
because I’m Sketchy McSketchball all the time. My back’s up against the wall.
I been in and out of courtrooms. Feel like the other foot’s about to fall.
I been stayin’ out of trouble. Well, I’ll put it relatively.
Even though I’m still a dumbass, NOPD’s not out to get me.
I been checkin’ things off my list, and my probation officer is friendly,
plus in a year and a couple months ya boy will achieve that one and twenty.
Yeah, so though your hood rapper’s rap sheet’s longer than mine,
I aspire to be a good boy. I don’t wanna do no time or pay no fines.
One of my best friends is in jail probably 25 years to life,
and last week almost put me there too. Lucky I had a witness on my side.
Falsely accused, Lord if you can really hear me
I need a new life or don’t let coppers roll up near me.

Please have mercy on me.