I wonder, if my mother
Ain't miscarried twice, would I be here to utter
Over
Beats, shuffle feet, thrift rugs just to cut 'em
And play hide and seek
With the rough-and-tumble God
I can make heat only when I'm humble, God
All my stains bleached cause I do not mumble, God
Made my bed, sleep in it, call me Trundle God
Less on my niche pop-rap, that's bubble, God
That's bubble, God
Less on my niche pop-rap, that's
That's bubble, God
Less on my, less on my leash