Basement (feat. F. Stokes / FUGZ)

Greyhound, Megabus, clothes in a plastic bag

From shelter to shelter, six kids with no dad

She left the city for a better life

Ran to a small town

Where the population was mostly white

Racial undertones, trying to get back home

With barely enough to keep shirts on my backbone

Now ain't this real life

Numb to what pain feel like

Demons knocking like the sound of steel pipes

Same lady who gave birth never left my hometown

But she the reason I travelled the earth

Locked the door, my uncle's going through her purse

"Wake your brother up, they're giving free meals at church"

And I can't justify how my daddy could black your eye

Now my sister can't trust a guy

We never had much, but we had us

And my brother found home in a pair of handcuffs

How am I gonna get myself back home?

I-I-I, I-I-I, I-I-I

The sound of bullets bounce

As I write raps in the kitchen

Daddy in a cell trying to hold his ambition

Witness the transition from a boy to a martyr

Sell dope but go to school to be a barber

The ghetto's like a prison

You locked but you still living

Barely breathing up until if you're leaving

But home is where the hate is

And my cousin ain't thirty yet

But she's got eight kids

Half look up to me

But the other half rarely fuck with me

'Cause apparently, they think I see myself as better

I see my songs as simply therapy

Now let's go back to that whole Greyhound bus bit

Mama worked there for old white folks

Wiping up shit

Tryna save ships, now close your eyes and envision

How she turned a bus ride

Into a spaceship

How am I gonna get myself back home?

I-I-I, I-I-I, I-I-I

Oh, how am I gonna get myself back home?

I-I-I, I-I-I, I-I-I

My home is comprised of many elements

Grandaddy was a junkie and found home

In a needle filled with daily medicine

Home is far less based on physicality

(The birds are mocking me)

But embracing the mentality that you can turn

Even the harshest conditions

Into an optimistic galaxy

(They call to be heard)

Come home daddy, it's okay now

(The birds are mocking me)

All the tears are dried up

Mama's in a better place now

No guns unless they're video games

(They curse my return)

But there's a darker side to sex

Rock and roll and cocaine

Come home

How am I gonna get myself back home?

I-I-I, I-I-I, I-I-I

How am I gonna get myself back home?

I-I-I, I-I-I, I-I-I

From the basement, to the ceiling

Going back home to replace this feeling

From the basement, to the ceiling

Going back home to replace this feeling