[Chorus: Clymax]
Last of a dying breed
People ain’t real no mo’
Homies don’t chill no mo’
So I can’t heal my soul
And I can’t feel no hope
‘cause I’m just by myself
The real ones gone
I’m tryna be strong
But man, I ain’t got no help

Last of a dying breed
People ain’t real no mo’
Homies don’t chill no mo’
So I can’t heal my soul
And I can’t feel no hope
‘cause I’m just by myself
The real ones gone
I’m tryna be strong
But man, I ain’t got no help

[Verse 1: Clymax]
Last of a dying breed, the real ones gone extinct
I’m tryna prevail, been fighting myself, that’s why I just bob and weave
I gotta watch the streets, I’m an endangered speciеs
Homies they change likе seasons, but I still [chamber?] secrets on how I can’t get even
Giving they think is easy
They say that I’m brave and seasoned, but I feel pain and grievance
Man, for the strangest reasons, so I arrange these pieces
I’m writing the greatest thesis, but the world may not read it…
‘cause I might pass too early?
Scared that my hands too dirty? (Who?)
Dodging these rats that surface (Who?)
Loyalty can’t be purchased (huh)
Every day another real one will fall
But I’m right here, they gotta deal with it, dawg
[Chorus: Clymax]
Last of a dying breed
People ain’t real no mo’
Homies don’t chill no mo’
So I can’t heal my soul
And I can’t feel no hope
‘cause I’m just by myself
The real ones gone
I’m tryna be strong
But man, I ain’t got no help

Last of a dying breed
People ain’t real no mo’
Homies don’t chill no mo’
So I can’t heal my soul
And I can’t feel no hope
‘cause I’m just by myself
The real ones gone
I’m tryna be strong
But man, I ain’t got no help

[Verse 2: K-Rino]
The game is super sick with these ruthless users abusing it
Hard to find a true one inside a room full of duplicates
Tough to maneuver it ‘cause the music looters are numerous…
Sticking their feet in every boot, hoping to find a shoe that fits
People claiming newness, but I ain’t seeing no proof of it
Despite the stupidness, I’ll truthfully never be through with this
I threw a fit and clicked when I saw who was at the root of it
That’s why I’m slowly moving into a state of reclusiveness
Nobody wants to draw first ‘cause being different is hard work
[?] making dope original gods hurt
I seen a thousand concerts, same purple, pink and orange shirts, same flow pattern on everyone’s verse
You hope copying pans out
No one remembers the regular
A man’s mouth only mentions the standouts
Can true art be reinstalled?
How can something be evolved in a genre where when you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all?
[Chorus: Clymax]
Last of a dying breed
People ain’t real no mo’
Homies don’t chill no mo’
So I can’t heal my soul
And I can’t feel no hope
‘cause I’m just by myself
The real ones gone
I’m tryna be strong
But man, I ain’t got no help

Last of a dying breed
People ain’t real no mo’
Homies don’t chill no mo’
So I can’t heal my soul
And I can’t feel no hope
‘cause I’m just by myself
The real ones gone
I’m tryna be strong
But man, I ain’t got no help