Family Pictures

Nothing's gonna be the same now Mind is stuck in lonesome rain clouds Making music with my greyhounds Always gotta box of albums, so it's fuck the safe route Never grew up in the same house I'm drained from all this change now High on I-5, I wrecked my truck, fuck need a place now Neighbors yelling Sammy turn that motherfucking bass down Fuck about all you fakes now Tripping and I need a breakdown Lost in these sounds Only thing that keeps me grounded This beat and some loud Y'all can catch my fragrance down-wind Bags by the ounce Still can't wrap my head around shit Kicked outta Dad's house Now them picture's so nostalgic Now the picture's so nostalgic Now the picture's so nostalgic Now the picture's so nostalgic I've been on my own since thirteen bitch I ain't well grounded Looking depressed when I'm better Drums in my head, let relationships severe Young and so clever Been mixing the words like they're coffee and doughnuts forever Escaping this pressure been taping my measures Had to live out of the restaurant down my own block Dip with a sack in my sock Kids used to laugh when I talk Bitch I just rap like a boss But now that you off and you gone Papa just tear out the 40's and stare at the picture 'til the liquor gets gone Watch American Pickers, don't care to be bitter I'm lonely and sick as a dog Put kid on the spot Only one home that can roam in my thoughts Fuck I miss Roman a lot Everyone's gone Nothing's gonna be the same now Mind is stuck in lonesome rain clouds Making music with my greyhounds Always gotta box of albums, so it's fuck the safe route Take me back to skateboards and LEGOs From making s'mores to can't find his way home Missing breakfast fuck I stack the Eggos Better pack your raincoat Hard to believe when all your role models are gettin' divorced and chain-smoke Wanted more saying fuck the safe road Gotta mess but I'm stuck with Play-Doh Getting paid making music stay home Place my thoughts 'til my fucking brain blow Mom coulda helped me out Dad's been on the couch for six months playing these strings to help when he's down Look at him now All these artists I'm a fucking cyclops Won't run outta things to say My mind will never shut off Stutter when I talk How do they expect this kid to go and choose his path when every roads a blind spot Little kid needing trucks and dime spots Ain't slept for days think I'm out my time slot Need a better spot but that's all on my watch I'm waiting Scott til' this fucking sky fall Saturday's wake-up early write songs Shattered frames and some stolen iPods Games of three call fouls and ride your bike off In a Blazers jersey and a pair of high-socks Lost Dad's Nikon Think too much the whole world's gonna bark but you ain't got no bite dog You good? came out I couldn't close my fucking eyelids Still looking for my wallet like it's love bitch never find it Rhyming still rhyming The stress just keep on piling I'm running outta time shit my eyes you see this mileage Crying Dad's crying I hope that ain't me I got so much on my mind that I can barely get some sleep Now the picture's so nostalgic Now the picture's so nostalgic Now the picture's so nostalgic I've been all alone this lonesome road just make me calloused