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