[Verse 1: The Nov]
Am I lost or am I found?
I have clearer thoughts when sippin brown
My mistakes have made me Mister Perfect
Gaining popularity, still introverted...
So...in a crowded room I feel alone
A refugee, even when I'm in my home
Gone til November, then back out in December
Professor on an island with a Mary Ann and Ginger
One is love...one is lust...neither do I trust
Stolen hearts play the fence, but the choice is still a must
The tipping of the scales, thinking justice should prevail
But the brights sides on her blind side so that goes beyond the pale
And I know that I'm a gem...that's the way I should shine
But everything I could find's dark as Bokeem Woodbine
Tryna keep my head like I'm Cleon in the jungle
Or I'm Omar in The Program where I learn not to fumble
I'm standin on my own two, even if I stumble
At times yes I've been humbled
Ain't ever make me mumble
I find no need to grumble cause I have no need to crumble
Everything's over the top...I'll win this Royal Rumble
I'm wrestling with uncertainty, with doubts I grapple
Will the apple of my eye find the eye inside the apple
Defenseless in the garden, these Eves are so naive
And n***as do what b**hes do so who's gone take the lead?
Help me
[Hook/Outro: Abby Dodson]
Help me find my way to a state of grace
Stir my heart, touch my soul
Feed me freedom sounds you made
Help me find my way to a state of grace
Lift me up with your weight
Pull me to the grace