| [00:00.00] |
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| [00:06.68] |
Walking through the village, hood up with no recognition |
| [00:09.43] |
Compass pointed to the wind |
| [00:10.78] |
Smoking, walking, never winning |
| [00:12.53] |
Long sleeves so my rings don't shine in the sun |
| [00:15.35] |
Young skylit wants a dollar, no I never needed one |
| [00:18.67] |
Acting like funds fell down in my palms |
| [00:21.60] |
Like it ain't just us, like I'm not just Bones |
| [00:24.65] |
Tryna hit my phone, all you get is tones |
| [00:27.79] |
Socializing is what I don't, I'm a never let it go |
| [00:31.08] |
1930's trunk, leave the cotton sleeve tight |
| [00:33.90] |
My floor got grain and the sun runs the lights |
| [00:37.06] |
Vanderbilt vision, only bitten with precision |
| [00:40.07] |
Fountains in the kitchen spitting while the chef still flipping |
| [00:43.18] |
Still death twisted, now I'm still like giving |
| [00:46.21] |
But I be like takin' if my happiness go missing |
| [00:49.24] |
Growing up I never listened now they wish I would've changed |
| [00:52.27] |
Cause every word spoken falls upon of arrangement |
| [00:55.77] |
Opinions turn to files |
| [00:57.10] |
I never ever save them |
| [00:58.54] |
Views turn to photographs |
| [01:00.10] |
I never ever frame them |
| [01:01.88] |
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| [01:07.05] |
Sesh |
| [01:12.82] |
What? |
| [01:20.84] |
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