Without the creator of this theater
Beside me to gently guide me?
Somedays I wonder if I need to pick a different hobby
I’m deep in with this rappin
It’s all a n**** know
I never didn’t nothin better, it’s hard to let it go
But like a father, watching his daughter, walk down the altar
With tears in his eyes, you gotta let her grow
And so I shall, but first I been honing my style
Coldest around, with more quotables than what the quota allows