| Taken the road less traveled |
| Anxiety battled |
| Those who said I wouldn’t get here |
| Left stranded without a paddle |
| Up shits creek |
| I’ve had enough this week |
| Charged it to the game |
| Keeping all my receipts |
| Record meetings pissed me off |
| I’m not tan or buff enough |
| «Use your light complexion» |
| To sale records |
| I’m Mexican asf / |
| What I’m supposed to do now? |
| Fake it like ain’t brown |
| Mumble a few words round |
| With a piñata in the background? |
| Y’all got me fucked up |
| Like my auntie cooking at Christmas |
| Bullshit on my to do list |
| You’re name ain’t on the guest list |
| You’re ludacris |
| So move bitch |
| Way out my circumstance |
| Trying to make these dollars not put shit on my conscience |
| Mentally I’ve been exhausted |
| Socially awkward |
| Anxiety got the best of me |
| Got me acting obnoxious |
| Getting weeded to solve it |
| But it’s not solving these problems |
| My momma moved out to Texas |
| And I be missing her often |
| My grandma still fighting |
| Saying son you gone make it |
| Takes every ounce of strength |
| In me to not cry when she says it/ |
| Another day isn’t promised |
| I’m being brutally honest |
| And that day gonna come when she ain’t there and I know it |
| But my pride I can’t show it |
| Back to the booth I keep going |
| Writing my truth in the lyrics |
| For all the lies that I’ve spoken |
| Right all my wrongs |
| Give my soul a good scrubbing |
| The angels are watching over Me |
| And these demons i keep ducking |
| Hoping one day I’ll find peace |
| And end the self destruction |
| Phone started ringing |
| Thought process was interrupted |
| «Sir we’re boarding your flight» |
| I must of passed out or something |
| Half alive with my eyes wide |
| Sitting in the plane ride |
| Knowing it ain’t easy |
| Thinking to myself like |
| This is what I asked for … right? |