[Verse 1: Chris Patrick]
Said I’m done being hung so it’s fuck the Americans
Fuck the experience, strung with embarrassment
Kill my brother for some dumb shit
Expect us to be humble Samaritans
Done with the burials, what is we cherishing?
Pain done trickled down our family tree
N***as moving loveless and arrogant
Functionless marriages
Drug use and carriages
Shawty said I’m just a fuck n***a
Told her I was done with comparisons
Said I’m done with comparisons

[Chorus 1: Chris Patrick]
Ventilate
My n***as keep a bag full of gas
For the empty whip we tripping on
Whenever we move Interstatе
I hope my shit don’t crash
Hope the troopеr didn’t notice when we passed
Pray we make it through and getaway
And get up out it
My homie moving reckless, n***a been about it
Don’t OD if he check us, keep yo wits about ya
He quick to load the clip shoot some shit, don’t doubt it
[Verse 2: Chris Patrick]
Vroom, vroom
Skrt off
Just a lil slap on the wrist
And the homies was laughing
How crackas got choppas
And still seem to act like a bitch
Momma just called my phone
And she ask where I’m goin'
I said I’d be back in a bit
'Cause I gotta get back in the mix
N***as thought we slacking off quick
'Cause it’s hard being black in America
They gon' put that lil target on top of yo head
And they shoot when yo actions is scarin' 'em
I don’t wanna be packed no hearse
I don't wanna be front of no news clip
Not no Kapernick slapped in the dirt
They will kill me like nothing, that's true shit
They be acting like black is a curse

[Chorus 2: Deante' Hitchcock]
Ooh, that's why I medicate
I hit the gas then hit the gas
Said last time will be my last
But I been low, I need to elevate
My n***a, he just passed
I'm kind of sad to know last time will be the last
I hope he makes it up to heaven's gates
Shit, I doubt it, did a lot of dirt just tryna get up out it
But that's just my perspective ‘cus I was with him wildin'
I take another hit and try to forget about it
[Verse 3: Deante' Hitchcock]
Uh, too soon, my dawg
I said that life is a bitch
Trying hard not to slip
But I can't get a grip on all my vices and shit
All my n***as is groomed like we jumped the broom
And they throwing rice in this bitch
That they can assume the world is against 'em
He said it don't pay to be pensive
I said peace of mind is expensive
And he beg to differ but everything comes with a price
Police write a reality check, n***a, you pay the cost with your life
All of this racial tension so thick
I’m convinced you can cut through that shit with a knife
He ask, "Why even put up a fight?"
It's ‘cause I know that they won’t hesitate

[Chorus 3: Deante' Hitchcock]
Throw my ass in body bags, zip me up and joke and laugh
‘Cause they hate me but they will never say
The reason why they mad is ‘cause I'm black
Well, I guess I would be too if I wasn’t, thank you for everything
Get up out it
My n***as, them my n***as, call them "n***a" proudly
Some days I feel like I don’t know how to feel about it
Some days I feel like I can’t even do shit about it
So fuck the world
[Skit: Emilie Cowen]
You have three new message
Yo, can yall n***as stop that rapping shit?
Like, I'm trying to vibe
Y'all got me in my motherfucking bag