When It All Goes Left

What's your plans for when it all goes left? Where's your hands when it all

goes left? Yeah. What's your plans for when it all goes left?

All this pain and regret, I have to hold my chest. Smoking weed's how

I cope with stress. Sleeping in a whip, there's no room

in the front seat. You know it's uncomfy when your legs can't stretch.

All these troubles, they just mess my head, my head, my head.

But I've still gotta get my bread, my bread, my bread.

Yeah. Yeah. I still gotta get this dough. You girl's a