True Color

We tryna change this crazy rollercoaster/ swangin while the door is open/ my pain is like the Holy Potion/ flash backs of failed moments on the oakley poster/ take pictures hope they hold you closer/ chick real but lust the son of Holy Ghost and stinks of purple lotion/ I'm just a kid from them O-P streets of poverty, pride, and potato patches, old government cheese/ light bags of trees and left over shots of Belvy/ jolly rancher melted so softly, the mere touch will make it dissappear/ so stop repeatin what you hear/ I keep the bushes over my face like Osama's men, we speak of gin/ brown baggy britches, bubble gum and dickie blazers/ shot nothin but foul shots, just tryna come back like the Lakers/ I can't sleep unless my blankets tucked by my beautiful prom date/ light kisses in some states, means you're married/ I'll try to carry only important things we need to help us grow, I know it feels like LOVE, I wish you really let it show.