| My pet peeve is a camera in my face |
| Have you ever heard of personal space? |
| I walk around town in a hoodie and some shades |
| But now they startin' to recognize the shades |
| Even if you hate me, you would trade |
| You would live this life too 'cause I got it made |
| I like my bed made, soon enough, I’ll have a maid |
| When I buy a house, every surface gon' be suede |
| But for now, I got a concierge downstairs |
| All my neighbors are gray-haired |
| They don’t recognize me and I don’t think they care |
| But my Postmates can’t believe that I stay here (Fuck) |
| I wanna go back to Kentucky and shut down the state fair |
| Visit my old teachers and tell 'em to take care |
| I might take a whip instead of payin' the plane fare |
| I still remember the way there |
| Ain’t a girl in my hometown I can’t have now |
| Buy a building in cash, ain’t puttin' half down |
| The hate used to get to me, I just laugh now |
| Yeah, they fuckin' with Jack now |
| Look how they act now |
| Look how they act now |
| Look how they act now |
| Look how they act now |
| They fuckin' with Jack now, they fuckin' with- |
| Mmm, pshh |
| Baby, I’m comin' home, I know the kids miss me |
| I need some time with my friends to sip whiskey |
| I spent the last twelve months locked in |
| But tonight, I’m content with existing |
| 2015, we was on that Pen Griffey |
| I wanted what he had, but the shoes didn’t fit me |
| Now the city with me and I got the kids listening |
| And I’m a smooth operator by instinct |
| Word to Sade, walkin' 'round broad day |
| Like hey, with the windows down, I’m on Broadway |
| And it was just a day ago, I was in Daygo like the damn Padres |
| Now I’m at my grandparents' lettin' my grandpa say |
| What he wants to say |
| 'Cause nowadays, I’m in the paper once a day |
| And it ain’t always positive, it’s a bunch of things |
| But fuck it, man, I done graduated from younger days |
| And if I ain’t runnin' things, soon, I’ll be runnin' things |
| I’m an artist, man, you just make fun of things |
| I’m the hardest, man, y’all don’t know what to say |
| This album’s a museum, so please don’t touch a thing |
| It’s okay to give me props, don’t make it such a pain |
| It’s okay to give me top, don’t make it such a thing |
| Don’t get offended if we met and I say, «What's your name?» |
| I been flyin' 'round the country for three hundred days |
| But I ain’t 'bout to justify how I adjust to fame |
| Fuck the fame, from the jump, we ain’t been cut the same |
| I got so much, but I still think about what’s unobtained |
| Never been the type for wantin' things |
| I want power (I want power) |
| I want my life to speed up a couple miles per hour |
| I want my dogs to know that this shit is ours |
| I want respect, I don’t want flowers |
| I know they gon' quote this |
| The flow don’t make no sense, the pocket is potent |
| It used to be potential, but now it’s some grown shit |
| Damn, that boy floatin', he treat them beats like they oceans |
| All these people wanna greet like we old friends |
| I ain’t holdin' back, tell the media, «Hold this» |
| I know I said I miss you, but I secretly don’t miss |
| I got stories and I’m bringin' 'em home with me |
| (Gangsta) |