Slow Burn

My whole soul burning slow
I keep both curtains closed
And my old burdens close
The shit no person knows
Home alone working
Poking coals in a cold furnace
Blowing smoke 'til my throat hurting
Yeah, my foes lurk and act hard
I’m in the backyard with no shirt--Joe Dirt
I get my money doing road work, that’s NASCAR
The gold star, I go hard
Most of y’all should prolly go purchase gas cards
Born with a poker face, so I don’t ever fold first
I let the chips pile then they turned into a boulder
Now I leave the house with the world on my shoulders
My girl on my back and I already told her
Winter’s on the way and it’s only getting colder
Tonight I’m trynna see you, baby I feel like I owe you
I don’t trynna press you, really just wanna hold you
Okay I might push your buttons, promise I will not control you it’s a:
It’s a slow burn, slow burn
They been taking all the credit that they don’t earn
It’s a slow burn, slow burn
Reach their hand into the fire but they won’t learn
I’ve been living on the edge, legs hanging off the ledge
Head ringing full of hymns that I’ve been singing for the dead
Try to tango you’ll get mangled in the eye of the bengal
They were grabbing on my ankles left ‘em dangling instead
I’m addicted to the danger, boy, I do it for the for the haters
Pulling on the strings got ‘em tangled in the thread
They pulling up late and I’m like «So what? See you later»
Went from paper boy to baker, boy, I’m bringing in the bread
You can bet on this shit, I been on a mission
I’m set on this shit, I’m bred and conditioned
The light in my eyes like a head on collision
So coming at me is a dead wrong decision
It’s food on the table and I got gold on my mind
I’m through with these labels, I never wanted to sign
If I shoot then it’s fatal so I hope you got an angel
Cause dog it’s shoes on the cable the way your soul on the line
That’s as clever as I’m ever trynna be
Whatever weather, I swear every time it’s heat
Getting hotter gotta hide her in the back but she said she like it better with
the leather on the seat
Aw, I might have to ghost her
If I go missing, my face on a poster
Life ain’t a race, it’s a chase and I’m closer
The roar of the roadster, pace of my motor
(I'm a ghost, I’m a soldier)
Based on my speed and the ace in my sleeve
Boy the case isn’t closed til I say that it’s over
I’ll keep some ice in the glass on the coaster
Five of my fingers stay close to the holster
I’ve been searching but there’s no perfect answers
So I take advice under no circumstances
Shouts to Chino, get it clean or get it dirty
Thirty grand in a bag you could hold thirty grams in it’s a: slow burn