All Good

Okay, money problems, got me shoulders feeling like they got the world on em

And I don't even mind the stress though, I support it

Just don't remorse me yall when I'm aborted

I'm up in the weed clouds, zonin out

Cause everybody seem to have my ass on speed dial

But if I ain't grow with yo ass pal I'm senile

Eclipsed out sun ain't shinin far from a drought

All I feel is rain on my damn scalp

Flames comin' from my brain like a human torch

They fuckin' on my picnic

I'm bout to be a sandwich short

Money, money y'all don't you get that language wrong