The Saint

Start over Yeah Glorified like a saint They don’t make it look that hard I could do the same from the scraps Go that far, they say But then we’re really setting it back far I’m the kid to make it all better and catch your attention Glorified like a saint They don’t make it look that hard I could do the same from the scraps Go that far, they say But then we’re really setting it back far I’m the kid to make it all better So where have I been? Jumanji. Nah, it’s called 2020 Where every damn eye is upon me The government, the people, my friends are despawning Cause they just wanna ramble, I don’t feel like responding everybody’s whining Others are declining Also me I’m fine, but that is not defining who I will be, or who I am now I make all my music to keep people smiling But I’ve been a baby a little bit my soul is up late Won’t you please sing her to sleep I’m that kid that you see little bit I’m walking around LA Not making a peep Bandana on me Earbuds as always Sunset boulevard Tweakers and all of the tourists Life was the purest, 'till we hit march, tested our endurance to stay at home All of our plans are burning, it’s the mood of a funeral, not a good mourning I still release my album although it’s so boring I try to bloom from it, my emotions are foreign What happened to Minutes of Happiness? And all of the goals that we already set How can we handle cooping up like chickens When our egos haven’t even landed yet? Woah Where's The Saint? We need The Saint It's not me Nothing to lose when you’ve got blackening bruises Nothing but healing will do the job, so deuces Sayonara to my bullshit, no more excuses Lemme take their style with mine and infuse it Now it’s all adding up No more trust, no more backing up Steer my own race, no giving in, new practices, I don’t give a f*ck It’s boring to you, but your straw is narrow They’re sucking up to the artists that get all the roaring, They look at the pharaohs They focus on fame, and not the mediocre But I’m the between, and I’ve never been closer At the end of the day it’s just to win the fight over Who should have the exposure So, eh. Glorified like a saint They don’t make it look that hard I could do the same from the scraps Go that far, they say But then we’re really setting it back far I’m the kid to make it all better and catch your attention Glorified like a saint They don’t make it look that hard I could do the same from the scraps Go that far, they say But then we’re really setting it back far I’m the kid to make it all better Gonna write later Fell asleep until 8 or 9 And now I’m stuck doing labor On Labor Day Really? Right now I’m supposed to be dropping off blunts to my neighbor When I was about to go, the blunts grew mouths And they said hey there Haha When I’m on autopilot My perception gets messy Brain fizzy like Pepsi Like always I’m silent No, I don’t get many paper cuts I’d be a paper chaser but My soul is ready to go again Wake her up I won’t be done until I have a maker's mark, until I shake it up My mixtapes are all ages and up F*ck it I'm just tryna show everybody Woman or man I’m ringing everybody’s phone And I’m bringing all the handouts The ones who can doubt me Already ran out The remaining ones try to be the best, We’re naming the ones From a bird's eyes view of the crowd, everyone rests While the saints, they stand out. Thank you I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an emperor, that’s not my business.