Maryland to Houston Dreams

They might drop the E on these. Young kid, Maryland soil on

his soles . Crab cakes in his veins , old Bay in his gold .

Mama said, "Boy, keep your head on straight" . But the streets

like a preacher, got a lot on every plate . Box Chevy dreams

, route 40 schemes . Backpack heavy , stuffed with shattered

dreams . Heard H-Town calling, syrup in the draw .

Chasin' bigger skies, leave behind them narrow halls . From Maryland to H-Town where the

lights don't dim . New chapter, new hustle, he gon' sink