Could It Be

Back, back, back, back
Yeah, yeah, yeah
From the back porch, back then
When dreams of a stacked fortune
Black kid with dreams by any means to sees
himself foldin' keys to a black Porsche and
That american pie he just want a portion
Product of that environment that he was forced in
Changed course when its out of control
Feel it down in my soul
Fast forward and foresee that fork in the road
Listen
Make sure you on the road, foreign car whippin'
Its mind bendin'
Open your eyes, I'm bendin' the rules
Time's tickin'
The time's different
On a globe, where every soul tryna survive in it
That's the, that's the main concern
Whole hood celebrate when the tables turn, you see
Feels like I'm on the cusp
Great forever, forever's not long enough its just
Back, back, back
Yeah
Wise man once said, "The grind can't stop"
Till letters in your name get bigger like cap locks
Still can't stall, so far from your last stop
Death to the yes-man, blind the mascots
Look past the moment to try to find your last opponent
Tryna find the answer
Before this life flashes past ya
Blink of an eye, go ghost like a phantom
I rather imagine the whole block poppin', corks, toasts, and glasses
More life, no ashes to ashes
Live life fast with no crashes
You can picture that with no caption
Try to see the vision no glasses
You can picture that with no cameras or flashes

You could just imagine
Still keep my hunger like fasting
Still keep it ghetto fab, like putting money in the mattress
And that's just (what), point blank
No biting my tongue, damn he's so frank
And your top 10, they don't rank
They asked me to change some things and no thanks



Credits
Writer(s): Curtis Eugene Cross, Simon Byrt, Hannah Rodgers
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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