In Her Music Box Atmosphere

[Verse 1]
She had a bad dream in the backseat
The same one as yesterday
The same one as last week
Surrounded by her favorite favorites
Elmo, Barbie, her purple baby blanket
And that little matchbox that looks like just like dad's car
It's fast on the leather, pretends its Nascar
It jumps over Elmo cause it can fly that far
With Daddy in the front seat frontin like a rap star
Hey girl oh girl Daddy's the greatest
He knows the words to everything on the radio playlist
He fakes the accent, even makes all the faces
And when he raises his voice
It makes her feel like he's famous
Yea Poppa got his lean on
A mean one
Weavin down Lake street-tryin to get his scene on
Stoppin the whip to say somethin out the window
Bobbin his head to the beat on the radio
Good daddy won't smoke no weed
Until the Bass cradles her back to sleep
Then he can steak his Mack while she takes a nap
To the sweet pretty sounds of the gansta rap
The high hat to angels voices
They keep her distracted from the stranger's voices
Escape is a paradox, because a childhood is locked in that music box