I'm on that Walter White/
Looking to alter life/
I fortified important things that mortified your border lines/
Pouring it over ice, Stranahan's is what I'm drinking/
And Lazerbeak's been cooking that blue, he's on that Jesse Pinkman/
Forty five to life, at least that's how it feels to me/
I organized the crime/
Diamonds in a field of dreams/
And at this point In time, I should not be left alone/
I am the one who KNOCKS/
I AM THE DANGER/
GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOME/
Running the asphalt/
Running on fumes/
Running on paying it back/
It's something to do/
With nothing to lose/
I'm gunning for you in the pack/
I'm wondering who in the FUCK could be stupid enough to abuse the imagination/
I'm impatient, let's get up and burn the fascination.

They're yelling knock knock/
We're screaming who's there/
Knock knock!
Who's there!?

I'm coming up out of a coma/
Looking for someone that's still in my corner/
But ever since Georgia..
All of the lies, they made me appear as a foreigner/
So I'm gonna pack it all up/
I'm sick that I'm stuck in the back of the bus/
I'm thinking if I can make all of it disappear, hopefully I can say I've had enough/
So check the habits, check the patterns, check the engine/
It's this check mark that lets hearts pedal past forever/
You better believe the inevitability makes us all contaminated/
As a Matter of fact, it's not the attack/ it's just a plan for placement/

There's blood on my hands,
It doesn't belong to me/
It's nothing to brag about/
It comes when you fall asleep/
Awake and alive, making this canvas look extraordinary/
Finger painting life, the canvas is now a mortuary.

They're yelling knock knock/
We're screaming who's there/
Knock knock!
Who's there!?


This ain't a proper burial/
It's ghetto gospel stereo/
I'm better off my very own/
My very own/
I'm setting out to carry on/
I'm taking time to bury bones/
I'm better off my very own/
My very own/