lost boys

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Woods, the Mighty

2:32

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Back to the future, Ain't from around here
You gon' know my name when I'm done around here
Lost boy gang, guess who run it around here?
You fucking up earth, looking bummy round here
It don't feel the same where the love around here?
My baby only one I really trust around here
Everybody grow up getting stuck around here
So they never leave
Develop little tribes and enemies
Find them a god or a gun and then they settle in
I ain't settling
I ain't easily convinced
I be doing wash
Put the devil in the rinse
He don't get a cent
I be with a dime piece
Not a cent less
And you know I smell good
Get so high
When I fall it feels good
What you know about that?
What you know about that?
What you know about that?
What you know about that?
Lost hell but bet I found my shadow
Lost as hell but bet I got my honor
Up and down the bank account, my commas
It's been a while since I seen my momma
Broke as hell again this shits exhausting
But I think tomorrow shows some promise
I don't know I'm tryna keep it poppin'
Dodging cops I'm tryna keep my pockets
You finer than a ticket on my Honda
Always swimming around inside my noggin
If were being honest I don't mind it
If we're being honest I got problems
Fell into the wardrobe
Found a Casio watch, and a pair of round glasses
Fell in to the rap game, chasing white rabbits
Mind race like rapids
Race out the city just to calm my madness
(Hit that bih
Hit that raw when I hit that bih)
Riding through the city
Got weed in my pocket
Like I collect grass
Never did my homework
But I was in class,
'Til I started skipping
Young Walt Whitman
Young Bruce Wayne
Young Walt Disney
I don't really like it when you dumb-talk to me
I like fall and I'm falling for ya
September, October, end august for ya
Cause I'm all in for ya
Damn, you got me
I knew what it was when I
found you in the lobby
I can see you working on yourself and your body
I'm just tryna get a couple raps off
Riding through the 'boro with the gang
Head lights in the rain
And we Can't see a thing
Car packed to the brim
Supposed to be on lunch
But this lunch don't end
And we never coming back
Who got the beats?
Who freak the blacks?
Who got the shrapnel?
Who need wraps?
This the land of the lost
Land of the free
Free come with cost
What it cost to be me?

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