[Chorus: Locksmith]
Bitch, don't even mention
If y'all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition
Fuck y'all really gon' say? Tell me I got a condition?
N***as can't hit what they can't see
I'ma stay low to the street while I get my money
Yeah, tell 'em pray for me, bitch don't even mention
If y'all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition
Fuck y'all really gon' say? Tell me I got a condition?
N***as can't hit what they can't see
I'ma stay low to the street while I get my money

[Verse 1: Locksmith]
What is the definition of real now?
Is it determined on what you earned or you bill now?
Has it been predicated?
The people that's dedicated to dumbin' the demograph are half of the [?], like (woof)
Look at what I rose from
What do you expect when livin' under your own thumb?
How do you progress when you left in a lurch and they left you inert
So you search for your own drum?
But I come from a place where the space was cramped
I was raised in the wastes, I don't wait for stamps
Of approval, my removal mutes you
So I move at a pace that elates my camp
I was canvassin', what I imagined then
Was a safehouse, now I come back with them
I don't chase clout, that is an act of sin
I reenact what is fact to refract within
If I adapt to them, then my edge is gone
There's a very thin line when the ledge is drawn
There was various times where they egged me on
But still the wounds from the past are what kept me calm
[Chorus]
Bitch, don't even mention
If y'all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition
Fuck y'all really gon' say? Tell me I got a condition?
N***as can't hit what they can't see
I'ma stay low to the street while I get my money
Yeah, tell 'em pray for me, bitch don't even mention
If y'all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition
Fuck y'all really gon' say? Tell me I got a condition?
N***as can't hit what they can't see
I'ma stay low to the street while I get my money

[Verse 2: Locksmith]
What are you n***as really afraid of?
What are you benefittin' by livin' to a pay stub?
How is it beneficial, in prison, the inner issues of people who went to diss you repent, but it's fake love?
But a horror and what you didn't involve 'em in
I been holdin' the psalm and then I been watchin' you bark his accomplishments
'Cause you're a falsehood, just a [?]
A sunk ark in the hearts of men
If you walk [?] then your remarks are a barker bitch mark
The start's where you faltered in
Every bar is a barge into Barça
I know to roll between a goal [?] was far-fetched
But I'm frowned upon, I found the pawns around, upon
The large fish, underground, but strong
Self-doubt was the route that the shouts would spawn
Fuck jealous comments and the couch you on
You were never an adversary, don't have me go have you carried
Away, the way you n***as ride is imaginary
Don't have me get to clappin' at your capillaries
You rappers are rather bitch-made, I will have 'em buried
[Verse 3: Jon Connor]
I just wanna be myself, respect for my reflection when I see myself
It's a blessin', through the music, I could feed myself
And give a message to the folks that said they need my help
Look, I will never let down anybody I'm a leader to
Follow every word and take a look at where I'm leadin' you
Never idolize, I just hope your eyes recognize
Everything you see in me, I see in you
Brain food, look how good I'm feedin' you
Road to success, there's a highway to hell, yeah, a scenic route
So my intuition got to tellin' me that bein' on the television ain't the validation that I need from you
Lookin' at my younger self, hopin' I would make it
Prayin' that I got a chance, if I did, I would take it
Confusin' bein' high on self with elevation
Confusin' bein' dead inside with dedication
I would never trade grace for fame, my faith remains
The Devil's works or God's blessings? Pepsi, Coke?
They look the same, they both is sweet
But in the end, they don't taste the same, so choose one

[Chorus]
Bitch, don't even mention
If y'all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition
Fuck y'all really gon' say? Tell me I got a condition?
N***as can't hit what they can't see
I'ma stay low to the street while I get my money
Yeah, tell 'em pray for me, bitch don't even mention
If y'all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition
Fuck y'all really gon' say? Tell me I got a condition?
N***as can't hit what they can't see
I'ma stay low to the street while I get my money