Sold myself for 3 shoes and a belt buckle,
Honey suckle lies and ice cubes in the throat funnel,
Cherry picked the kisses from a casket of some misery,
I sewed the seed but it was picked and salted out of history,
Alas, alas, alas, alas, alas, Young Boy,
Your cymbals crash, crash, crash, crash, Young Boy,
Your momma comin', comin', for that ass, Young Boy,
Your toys bigger but you're still a child in class, Young Boy,
Be humble,
Before their face turn sour and they're wishing for your stumble,
Bees bumble and they're swatted till they come through with the honey,
Money trees with fallen branches will be driven over,
Land Rover tyres are worth gold but will stay shouldered, cold