Greyhound
Megabus
Closing the 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
Tryna get back home
With barely enough to keep shirts on my backbone
Now ain't this real life
Numb to what pain feels like
Demons knocking like the sound of steel pipes
Same lady who gave birth
Never left my hometown
But she's the reason I travel the earth
Lock 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
The sound of bullets bounce as I write raps in the kitchen
Daddy in a cell tryna hold his ambition
Witness the transition from a boy to a martyr
Sell dope and go to school to be a barber
The ghetto's like a prison
You're locked but you're 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 souls 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
Oh, how am I gonna get myself back home?
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
Oh, how am I gonna get myself back home?
I, I, I
How am I gonna get myself back home?
I, I, I am lost
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