/Mayview St., Eighty-Seven to Ninety-Three/ My mother and my father and my dog and me/ High-top with a rat tail, Bugle Boy jeans/ Fluorescent color tank tops, cool as the breeze/ Just a young couple, gettin' by, and in love/ Both working jobs just to make it enough/ From an infant to toddler, highchair with a bib/ While Lucy, our pit-bull, slept under my crib/ Used to dare anyone to come close to the shit/ Even went at Grandma on a certain attempt/ 'Till 3, was babysat, then Dad fucked that up/ Backed out her driveway and my skull got cracked up/ Four lanes, got the signal it was safe to come out/ Then BAM, Garbage truck about took his son out/ Sewed my brain lining and pieced together my skull see/ And that was the first time the piper tried to lull me/

(Hook)
/Into a deep sleep, sounds so perfect/
Recall family, discard verdicts/
And during rapid-eye, I'll pretend it's worth it/
That my only thought, ain't to jerk my curtain/

/Through all of that, there was my best friend/ Bonded over bullshit, cartoons, and wrestling/ Our dream was to call Wrestlemania ringside/ Commentated over tapes since we were knee-high/ Day I turned six Mom buried her Pops/ So his mom lit my candles while his family watched/ All the time wrestling, he used to get nosebleeds/ So we’d stop, wet a rag, and then try and control them/ He was there for the marriages, and there for the moves/ And when I got a new brother he accepted him too/ Backed me during beefs, didn’t ask questions/ My dude was blood-kin and a definite blessing/ When I had the 2nd surgery, my brother was right there/ With a joke gift, laughs, and a smile that my life spared/ Certain shit occurred, most the fault is with me though/ And that’s why certain nights, the guilt won’t let me go/