Questions.
A man finds himself in a place where he resembles more than a complexion.
He redefines the idea of leaving this place but the option of survival plays part in the action to make a home. He acknowledges his past, his answers for the future, and they don’t balance. He satisfies his daily assumption but worries when the day ends and the sun turns down. Take these first songs as his confessions. If you can’t see how he forms his reality, just accept it. Rejection now is your own reaction. Manipulating the truth is something I don’t. And I never wanna be a simple man or just another nigga.

May you take a trip down my vision
I’m walking track miles on my nerve synapse
Signed up for pain game on my own decision
Mama I made it out of trouble
Having breakfast with my fellas
Not a dirt on my shovel
I’m a rebel, I’m a die flippin fingers under six feet level
Hell I’ll tell the devil to get off
My back is crooked
I’m feeling my hand is hunted
The weight of my breath is smothering
Catering the evil of lucy
I wonder if I’ll ever make it
Will I survive, will I be embracive?
Creative this native, a land that’s full of stories
But none of them made a second or minute of glory

I live within my right, sitting tight as the story’s unfolding
Hanging up above is a stormy cloud holding
Venom in it’s cold blood, pressure in it’s holster
Messing with my soul, dolled-up and getting bolder

Man I’m in trouble
Drowning to the bottom of the bottle
Looking for the answers in the rubble
Getting really hard for me to hustle
Cos I find that trouble now

Cos I find that
Money is the issue trying to satisfy desire
Hand you a tissue if issue do backfire
Can’t be dived, the cost of living is higher
Cos many deserted their dreams of looking for a buyer
Truth loose I always choose a size bigger
Little nigga look at giant flippin finger
So I figured that my life is on a buggin
Always talkin, many walkin suicidal on the margin
Hand flippin what I’m holding
Fallen facts, the skinny nigga poured his thoughts and past
Past the bats, the rats, cats that stank the last task
The mask, the cast, they act, they fake, they stabbed the back

Man I’m in trouble
Drowning to the bottom of the bottle
Looking for the answers in the rubble
Getting really hard for me to hustle

Could it be a vision wishing I could make the pain go away
On a mission to provide, yet I hide, play it safe
Sit and wait until the storm blows over
Pile up the violence til we get a little closer
Wonder who will blow first
Will it be the man who bottles potions
Or the motion moving slower
Chewing theories til we’re sober
This problem’s got a quota
This light is like a might spike
Strong as it illuminates the right fight
Killing darkness on its way
Cover up my deepest doubts
Just your luck my secret’s out
A trick called freedom feeding purple clouds
As the rain gains, fame fades
Drama died when the same name played
Do I drown in all this deep I’m bleeding now
Trouble and his cousin fear they got me down
If there’s any other way to get around
Let’s keep the love we’ve found

Man I’m in trouble
Drowning to the bottom of the bottle

Mama I made it out of trouble