i want the world to C the BS
finna step into the shoes of the late great don hewitt
and put the years of ‘tell me a story’ poetry into sixty minutes
haven’t started producing it yet but it’s all good
i hAve a LiL’ BiT of TiMe
or maybe my dad was right all along and i don’t
and believing that i do is the problem i undermind
back in college, dying wasn’t a worry of mine
now death towers in my head, it’s a real asset
something has to bring value to the empty goals i set
i have no real identity
outside of working to raise my worth
which can’t net
anything worth having on this earth
i’m holding a king of isolation and a nine of doubt
luv sucks, modern luv affair, and luvxury were the flop
but my mind’s made up, i’m all in before i see the turn
i already done gambled myself into a mountain of hurt
so dealer, please just show: quit job and a milly
there’s a fresh start and an unravaged heart in the desert
for me, the joker
the card that everyone remembers to throw out