Lyrics

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 resurrection 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'm just 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, nigga Don't let the devil in (Don't let the devil in)