Auto-Tune howlin’ out the tin roof,

I’m the G-O-A-T, got the Ghost in the rearview.

Weezy in the passenger, blunt bigger than a statute,

codeine in the chalice, turn the coupe to a chapel.

Pain on the bridge, I’m a sermon and a syllable,

Wayne on the verse—every bar a crematorium.

Came from the swamp, left the mud on the Grammy,

still hustle every beat like the rent due in Miami.

I’m the glitch in your get-rich, the crown in the mosh pit;

if talk is cheap, then my goat chat cost a spaceship.

浮光剪碎夜的綢緞，

風(fēng)把舊夢(mèng)吹成帆；

我在無(wú)聲處點(diǎn)燃心跳，

一秒萬(wàn)里，不回頭望。

月色翻面是雪的浪，

腳印盛開(kāi)成銀河的圖案；

倘若你也在耳廓里聽(tīng)見(jiàn)潮生，

請(qǐng)把名字寫進(jìn)無(wú)聲的云，

讓它替我說(shuō)——

“別怕，光會(huì)記得我們。”