I had a dream that I could drive my way to heaven
My car of choice, a Porsche 911
I asked God if he can hear my engine revving
0 to 60 in three seconds
A James Dean premonition, crashing...
My suicide will be his ressurection
Conversations with women who claim to see perfection in my imperfections
A final rebel that's without cause
James Dean, a broken heart of boulevard
911 still the car of choice
Cruising, through the boulevard of broken hearts
It's going down like 9/11
Pun intended, I was looking for a building
They say the sky's limit so I let the top down now I'm looking for the ceiling
Instead, I found God
But it don't match the feeling
Of empty sex with random women
At least I'm honest
I'm 21 but still I feel like I ain't young enough
I never had shit so I'll never have enough
The type of the motherfucker to go and Runamuk
Do it all and then claim I haven't done enough
The winter's mine I was grinding in the summer but
Two middle fingers for the runner up, n***a

Don't let the devil in (Don't let the devil in)