3 in the morning tripping around that time I shouldnt be slipping but I'm slipping on my own sweat cuz every 5 minutes I q to forget, dumb motha fucker the bed is all wet. drip drip drop, Im wigin so hard i can hear my parents conversation coming from afar. but just so you know, it's not from the house, and neither from the car. but sometimes I like to pretend the house is where they be, so the demons in my room remain in the dark and out of my mind, cuz I'm sure I'll take it too far next time, fueled with nothing but wickedness talking to myself in the the dark, the clock is ticking, 546, less than a quarter till six, but I need another quick fix, the clock strikes 6:07 and i still haven't mAde it to that one place they call heaven, I rather go get me a brewski at 711. as I'm walking up the street, I bump into chuco, he a young cat with an old soul, a soul a ruco. but dont get me wrong this motha fucka also be on a sick one. so we both decide to go up the street and get a motha fucken brewski for him and be. back to the park, hura passing by but I dont give a fuck, chuco trippin hard cuz he got a fat case, shit Id also be trippin if I found myself in his motha fucken place, our destination coming up ahead or should I say down cuz we going down Lewis we make it passed the stairs we turn to our right and to our surprise this motha fucken guy, cody, first thing he says is, perro what you got on my 40. damn 3 motha fuckas wiggin dam we better start sippin