Birds Eye View

[Verse 1]
Talkin’ to God is talkin’ to self
Only for thanks, never for help
People be super religious
And lookin’ at niggas like we cannot think for ourselves
Like having my heaven on Earth is a problem
And livin’ in hell is livin’ regardless
Why even try to get rid of these problems
If I gotta die just to get out the bottom
I know some Christians, and Muslims
And Witches and Wizards
I know their hearts vs their titles
So, I couldn’t treat any one of 'em different
I’m learning more from sitting with shrooms, then sittin’ in pews
Granny, I’m sorry I’m switching my views
The light and the dark, I need ‘em together
Can’t split ‘em in twos, I’m livin’ my truth
And she’s 82 but stuck in her ways
I know her life ‘cuz I know her pain
And she want that changed but she afraid
To say that she might have did it all wrong
But imagine the family she saved
‘Cuz what if she knew all along
But feeling like now it’s too late
‘Cuz most people pray for that job
But won’t give their spirit a raise
So I’d rather study abroad
Then to ever be stuck in that state
I’m going unconscious had to get rid of the nonsense
For me to see brighter days
Preparing for Lent but they got lint in they pocket
That’s so out of pocket, now all of us slaves
To that mutha fuckin’…

[Verse 2]
One time to my Therapist she could see right through my arrogance
But I love that she sparin’ it
She said it’s needed for shit that I been through so cherish it
Broke my heart now I’m wearin’ it
All on my sleeve, I kept every piece
Knew it was needed when I wanted peace
Question the ones who want what I got
But never the ones who just wanted me
Sacrifice all of this shit that I wanted
To get everything that I actually need
Turn out my money by turnin’ down drinks
Still buyin’ bottles, what might be for them
May not be for me, it’s hard to believe
Closing my eyes and seeing my dreams
Open ‘em up and I'm seein’ the things
I seen in my sleep, right in front of me
Be feelin’ sorry for niggas who rap in my city
Especially ones with a gift
They put they blood, and they sweat, and they tears into somethin’
And hope that they get on a list
Made up by people who can’t even walk in the function
Be beggin’ to get on the list
You sittin’ online, they sittin’ in-line
The pot and the kettle shit really exist
They throwin’ shots, they want a fight
Every attempt is a swing and a miss
Opening doors; can never abort
The mission too big to be playin’ the fence
I don’t take pictures with money but don’t think I’m starving
My pockets is fully equipped
Courtney from Gucci be sendin’ me pics
Buy it then write it off as an expense
But nigga, still…