Big Time Deca

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[Hook]
Look at me
I'm doing things
I'm big time
I'm flat broke
Troubadour
My head hurts
Doing things
Doing things

[Verse 1: Deca]
Broke, Stressed, Hopeless, Fresh out the Ocean's depths
Overslept, woke up in a cold sweat, soaking wet
Below the threshold your breath to get the full effects
And when the sun shines you can feel it in your solar plex-
(Is) it all a dream?
(yes)
Is it all in vain?
(no)
Pulling out a brainchild with forceps is painful
Think big, aim high, entertain angels
Stay gold and disdainful of the "same old"
"He's got a good song he's got a certain style
Every goddess on the planet wants to have his child"
(Wow)
Thinking out loud, exhaling brown clouds
My guns go [Machine Gun Fires]
Your guns go pow pow
They're not figurative, I don't throw stones
I aim high and shoot holes in the ozone
I got big plans, to do big things
To spit pristine sixteens and live dreams