The way life goes, it’s a backroad blunt and a broke-down Ford,
mama praying in the kitchen while the repo man scores.
I been stitched by the needle, baptized in the trap,
love left me bleedin’ like a dog on the map.
Still I roll, ashes on my Nikes, dreams in a duffel,
countin’ scars like money, heart tougher than muscle.
If I die tonight, let the chorus sing slow—
this the way life goes, dirty, raw, and solo.