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I have many faces, filter through them depending on the conversation.

Contemplating if I'm going to make it flipping through these pages trying to predict the ending, calculating everything, even my narration.

I don't play around with my currency, currently floating with the current, been flooded with these thoughts for a while.

Popped out of the water at my destination dripping, decided this place needs some renovations.

This blurry vision coming in and out of focus, but I am determined I'm going to make it.

The words you say mean nothing unless you put some fucking heart behind the definition.

People say you have to have a hustler's ambition to make it, “ill take it.”

My demons sitting shotgun, swerving in and out of lanes making funny faces

When you have these feelings no one can understand you might make it out of the darkness you created from the previous self you killed off to make room for the elevation.

Started my empire out of my basement, taking on people's problems, because I was built to take on reputation.

You think I'm playing, but when you see those signs pop up in your town you'll know I made it.