I grew up traumatized… Depression had me eating rations. My sister touched by a Phoenix, I seen her rise from ashes. She wears her strength up on her sleeve, I sip mine out the bag shit. Shout out all my homies in the grips and in the casket. I’ve got a lot of baggage... And still my head’s in the clouds, I’m puffing weed by the pound, and still my feet on the ground... Kid wants a lot of cabbage... I’ll never sleep on an ounce. I’m trying to live life loud, and still I live in my bounds. I ain’t even started rapping… The psilocybin’s kickin’ in. Ego death the death of me, a dream is what I’m living in. A throne is what I’m sitting in, the game is what I’m shitting in. Life is cursed with death, pimp the pine box that I’m fitting in... When I’m counting sheep… Arms crossed, feet dirty… Don’t skip a beat…Rage ‘til 0 dark thirty... When I’m counting sheep… Arms crossed, feet dirty… Don’t skip a beat.. Rage ‘til 0 dark thirty...