This life is a game if you wanna play
Counting all your own mistakes
Living it with no delay
So fast Im getting growing pains
Father didnt show me my instincts to take the open lane
I go insane
All the problems come with my growing age
Blowing haze tryna clear the doubt thats sitting on my brain
I dont complain but the kid inside mes feeling so restrained
Gotta stay golden
Let desire rekindle the flame
Searching for the Fountain of Youth
When Im free in my brain
Bring in the horns
You hear that fucking brass
Thats little boy nigga with the trumpets
Marching with the bandwagon
Looking for his heart
No sleeve but his hand carry muskets
Lurking in the meadows, Oblivion
Mothafuck Geppetto, hes a leader not a puppet
Some professors nuttier than Klumps dick
So think before you blink and aye-aye make assumptions
Niggas
Your left, your left, your left, right left
Niggas is coming
Your left, your left, your left, right left
They want a story – a story
I write the shit that I find very amusing
Cause all the other fucking stories are boring
Its really awkward to know that a bunch of kids do adore me
Its like I fathered these fuckers
So you wont find me on Maury
Im still a kid in my heart so I have a problem maturing
But it will come from experiences and shit I see touring
Im like a bird when Im soaring, really high
And Im really horny, from watching this porn
Nope, but
Bring in the horns
You hear that fucking brass
Thats little boy nigga with the trumpets
Marching with the bandwagon
Looking for his heart
No sleeve but his hand carry muskets
Lurking in the meadows, Oblivion
Mothafuck Geppetto, hes a leader not a puppet
Some professors nuttier than Klumps dick
So think before you blink and aye-aye make assumptions
Niggas
Your left, your left, your left, right left
Niggas is coming
Your left, your left, your left, right left
5, 4, 3, 2, and wheres Tyler
Bottom of the countdown, shit aint been the same
Since I found out Hodgy Beats ghost wrote for Bow-Wow
Now Im the loud shock value style foul mouth fucker
That your teenage kid likes to bow down
Riding around town in Seattle
With the same shotgun that Kurt used to click-clack, boom-pow
Still suicidal but some assume that Im cool now
Cause I got a fucking award and my own room now
Nope but I can flip shit like a couch pillow
And have my death silent like a loose vowel
The bandwagon turned into caboose, so
So, dont let that little nigga trumpet lose sound, just let him play