Born in the trenches times were beyond bad, I use to find solace in my head the only place of I screamed I could hear the shout.

For me childhood wasn’t fun everyday was different the only consistent thing was the stoning from emotional bricks, day after day the weight of the world on your shoulders the legacy of a generation and I would never and run.

I move different everyone of my methods they would doubt, a meaning to an end while they did it for clout “I told niggas I hustled just to make it out”.

Unique in my perspective the success never stopped the hustle my mind now the instrument like a gun, delivery absurd words come spewing violent and heavy like a ton.