November 5th

Crowded like the gym on the first week of January
Clouded like my mind on the first night at the Sanctuary
I'm bouta burst like Peter Griffins final capillary
Going out like Stinson imma spit it till it's legendary

Coming out the blue first snow of November
Baking in the heat first thing I remember
Flames like my brother bouta go and blow his temper
Yeah I'm burning like the last on the embers (Woah)

I been to hell and back
Boy the trip ain't pretty
I had to face the facts
I can't take your pity

I had to leave my city
And move out to the coast
Not the one with beaches
But the one with snow

They said they sorry for me
They said I'm in your thoughts
Yeah appreciate the culture but it ain't your fault

It's just a shitty hand, and I gotta make it work
I miss my girls out in the desert who knew how to twerk

It's a different lifestyle that I used to live
I used to chill out with my bros in a different crib
I used to stay late nights and just drive around
This ain't the culture over here yeah it's a different town

Yeah, woah, this life out here more European
I think it's something in the air that I must be breathing
And even when I'm dreaming, and even when I'm sleeping
Don't know where home is any more I fight my inner demons

Home Goddamn that's a relative term
Home is where my family at half of em down in the earth
Sometimes I think I've been cursed, I don't understand how this works
Everything in my life just keeps on going bezerk

If there's a God and he really fucking testing me
Then please explain, my Goddamn destiny
What kind of God plucks a fruit before its ripe
What kind of God leaves two kids alone at night

Ain't no truth to any lie ain't no fruit to every vine
People asking how I'm doing and I always say I'm fine
Ain't no point to tell the truth, ain't no point to pull the tooth
Only place that I'm myself is when I'm in the fucking booth

Miss the homies in the wild wild west
Miss the Penwood gang yeah finessing the arrests
Miss the Cunning Fellow crib where I used to make a mess
Miss living a home where I ain't never no guest

Crowded like the gym on the first week of January
Clouded like my mind on the first night at the Sanctuary
I'm bouta burst like Peter Griffins final capillary
Going out like Stinson imma spit it till it's legendary

Coming out the blue first snow of November
Baking in the heat first thing I remember
Flames like my brother bouta go and blow his temper
Yeah I'm burning like the last on the embers (Woah)

Three story, red brick Victorian
True story, how am I gonna make it in
Twenty-two out of a grand, ain't no upper hand
Wish I really didn't a damn

Two story, overlooking all the green
True story, mama met my every need
First child gets harder as you get older
And now I'm fucking up the birth order

Stage four and you know I'm coming in hot
Grind it to the ground imma take you to the bedrock
Take em to the Red Rock, spit it from the Hip-Hop
Papa always told me I been playing too much black-ops

Used to go to school with just a tee and just dome dungarees
Now my homies talking bout they latest fucking luxuries
Homies from the hood ending up in all the Ivy Leagues
Rich motherfuckers couldn't make it past the nunnery

Turned a 2 to a 4, 4 to a 8
I turned my life around and I ain't gonna wait for fate
Burn my memory and move the fuck up out the way
Every six months I been staring at the date

Ink stains cause I'm writing like a maniac
Matches in my pockets and you know that imma pay you back
I been to hell and back, I had to face the facts
My pain and yours is equal I ain't gonna mess with that

Remember to remember, the 5th of November
That's the day I knew that I ain't never gon surrender
That's the day I knew that I ain't never gon forget her
That's the day I knew that shit gon live with me forever

Pick apart my brain up in an institute and pay em
Pick apart my mind before I lose it on the gram
Pick up all the parts of life and throw em all up in the light
I hide my darkest thoughts and I ain't never gon display em

Picking at my scabs never let em do the healing
Scars finna stay till my last day breathing
Pick apart my fickle heart and take me to the simple start
Cause I ain't tryna do the math and figure out the meaning

Desert to snow, look at the flow
If it doesn't glitter its gold out in the cold
Ain't getting easy for me hoping they see
One things for sure I ain't ever gon drop to my knees

Three story, red brick Victorian
True story, how am I gonna make it in
Twenty-two out of a grand, ain't no upper hand
Wish I really didn't a damn

Two story, overlooking all the green
True story, mama met my every need
First child gets harder as you get older
And now I'm fucking up the birth order