Something that I want, something that I want
I just totally want utopia to surround my conscious
So I can give a fuck about the fabrics that I found in my closet
What's so bounded by sound is that her word never left me
While the departed all counting sheep, I am busy counting my blessing
Unc been on house arrest since his release
Just found him dead in his sleep, dead
Wait, This open your soul and your soul intent it's total legit
I go throw a fit I owed unto him, he wrote from the pen
You called on weekends, I pour out to sip if I drank
I know the Lord give and Lord take
But he got me choosin' between church and the music, like Mase
Pray, that's what grandma said, I bow my head
You still alive, you are not dead, I'm your pallbearer
And that's the blood that I wrote this with