[Intro: Tate McRae]
I have this paralyzing fear that I'll maybe go nowhere
But God forbid me ever admitting I could be scared
And I can't stand my friends right now, we got nothing in common
But being lonely's worse than just having friends that don't care
You said it looks like I've been going through hell
How did you know? How could you tell?
Ask me to explain myself
Well
I'm trying my best here to be brutally honest
Nobody said changing would be this exhausting
A foot on the break 'cause it's been making me carsick
How could you blame me? Growing up is chaotic

[Verse: DC The Don]
I was goin' over speed, I'm on the freeway
Drivin' on the way to you, you said, "It's too late" (too late)
You said I'm too high to drive right now all them street lights goin' away
But I'm sick of the assumptions, you can just call if you need somethin', somethin'
And my problems called, they said they goin' away (Goin' away)
You know how this shit get when you workin' a lot and you need a break (Need a break)
And I spoke to your mom last night when the feelings start to fade
She so sick of the assumptions
After all of this, do it mean nothin'? Nothin'
Anyways, I'm comin' down to terms, I just fade away
'Cause I don't wanna break down and just feel a way
And she don't wanna break down and just feel a way
I seen you called to wake me up, but I been awake
You got me coughin' up my lungs when I ventilate
'Cause I get high as I can get when I feel a way
And she don't like when I'm too high, it make her feel a way
Um, anyways, I'm runnin' to the riches
Whole lotta cash comin' through and I'm a spend it
Send another, “IMY” to my phone, I'on get it
I'on wanna text back, It's too hard to admit it
I been in the road for days, and the stress came with it
She don't even wanna talk when the fame brought in it
I knew, shawty, she could tell that the life came with it
'Cause I been in the motels with the same braud in it
Oh-oh-oh (Ooh)
(Mmm) mm-woah, ooh-woah
Huh, oh, woah, oh
I admit, I got insecurities I'm flyin' with
Sometimes I think I'm not enough, but, still, I'm dyin' lit
I got some business and some problems that I'm dealin' with, but who don't?
That's why I'm tryna stack this shit, for real, until my roof gone
She like, "Who them bitches on yo' phone?" And I'm like, "Who phone?"
She knockin' on my door twenty-four-seven, she like, "Who home?"
Straight to the mansion, to the penthouse from the group home
That's why I got that Presi' Rolex, and made it two tone