[Verse 1: Thugstin]
He petty pens righteous sh**
Restless nights he writes this sh**
For like, five fans who like his sh**
Who are waiting for a f**ing hit
But honestly he can't produce;
Flawlessly he pops a deuce
And peaces out on his f**ing crew
Trips acid and f**ing shrooms
When he's crashing in a f**ing spiral
Not a hits gone f**ing viral
And his hearts slowing not showing vitals
Scratch his life out like some f**ing vinyl
Scratch it out, crashing down
Fake a smile like a f**ing clown
Who's down in the dumps and around
A school and a playground
Kid's played with like his emotions
And he's tired of the f**ing notion
That his career has f**ing frozen
And he can't get it back in motion
No no, he's f**ing lost it
Not sure if he ever got it
Locked up his glossed locket
And shoved it in his f**in pocket
A locket holding all his dreams
Of getting big to hit mainstream
And the he'll rep his f**ing team
Hashtag nom we f**ing mean
You see, dont want to waste any talent
Get off track like a f**ing foul hit
Like im smashed with a f**ing mallet
Then wipe me up with a f**ing towellete