| (Intro) | |
| Daddaaaaaa da dad aaaaa | |
| (Verse) | |
| Melancholy. No, really, my mellon's calling | |
| My brain is slowing, I can't tell if all these | |
| Visions are dreams or nightmares | |
| Cause I dream a starter | |
| But I start to dream I might fail | |
| Drink down that shitty rhyme with Nyquil | |
| I kill raps here and there but I'm still | |
| A locco, locco, gone postal | |
| Nothing from the postal | |
| Man is a grind. For my test I won't pass | |
| Fuck, I guess I'll smoke grass and Athal | |
| Ain't that the truth? Got me five thousand Buicks | |
| Now can we make that a million? I'm stealing the building | |
| But no one seems to notice | |
| I have every profesor | |
| They can blow it on the Otis | |
| Or act like I'm the youngest | |
| Tho no harm's taken | |
| I go so hard I got both arms wanking it | |
| Thank the pricks who picked on me at grade school |
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