Walking through the village, hood up with no recognition
Compass pointed to the wind
Smoking, walking, never winning
Long sleeves so my rings dont shine in the sun
Young skylit wants a dollar, no I never needed one
Acting like funds fell down in my palms
Like it aint just us, like Im not just Bones
Tryna hit my phone, all you get is tones
Socializing is what I dont, Im a never let it go
1930s trunk, leave the cotton sleeve tight
My floor got grain and the sun runs the lights
Vanderbilt vision, only bitten with precision
Fountains in the kitchen spitting while the chef still flipping
Still death twisted, now Im still like giving
But I be like takin if my happiness go missing
Growing up I never listened now they wish I wouldve changed
Cause every word spoken falls upon of arrangement
Opinions turn to files
I never ever save them
Views turn to photographs
I never ever frame them
Sesh
What?