Trayvon

I'm from the type a street that ain't got a address

Body bags shipped out in batches

Bodying beats, I spit classics

To fill out the absence

Of real lyricists who can't surpass what my max is

Just tried to open doors

For ghettos no one endorsed

For the blind sheep that never had a chance to be the GOAT

Understandable we far from the promised land

But all the prophets in my hologram sell contraband

Crack bars Dopamine