[Verse 1] Back to the shit, I finally made it, Jacked up truck, In chrome, it's painted, Go make money, Don't be, Wasting days, You gotta, Get paid, Better than sitting, In a haze, Of clouds and fame, Like rain, Then comes the pain, In forms of rage, The labels screw, You over, And lock you up, Like, "aww look at the guy, in a cage." Rage, Came a long way, Made to be great, Seems like it's fate, It's great, Wait, Lifting weights, Dont be flexing pay, You can't be fake, Gotta rise to the occasion, People consistently hating, Waiting for the time, You waking, That's what I call racing Satan, They know when I close my eyes, But I got another sense inside, I see through all the lies, Through a window pane of time, That's how I write all these rhymes, With faith in myself implied, All the other bullshit aside, I put it all on my southern pride, [Chorus] I'm gonna be trouble for the mainstream, Trouble for the fake creeks, Let's see how they take these, Lyrics to the back streets, I sit up and I rap these, And put it under their fake trees, [Verse 2] Fake trees? That's an understatement, They don't come, From walking pavement, All that matters, Is making you famous, And strip you, Of every dime, it's crazy, I ain't the one to be played with, Whole scene making me dangerous, Won't stop til I'm sitting famous, But for now imma keep on raging, Raging like I'm from, The underground, Rise up all around, To the sound, Of a beating drum, Just like I'm hell bound, Well round, My crown, Gimme that shit, I'm popping out, I already won, Stop counting down, I'm not gay, But I'm coming out, Dumbing out, That's what the haters do, Everytime I step to the plate, Ready to hit, Just like I'm baby Ruth, Game of pool, Out of pocket, Grandma's locket, Get the concept, Imma country muthafucka, And I came in the game, Just to lock it, [instrumental]