Best Spot in the House Injury Reserve

[Intro: Ritchie with a T]
This is the best, the best spot in the house?
Absolutely

[Verse 1: Ritchie with a T]
Check it
Check it, yo, check it
I've had niggas that come up to me, say that they looked up to me, yeah
And that they been fuckin' with me since shit was ugly, yeah
And that these songs, man, they saved they life
Now, how you put that kind of power in these hands of mine?
And how a nigga 'posed respond to some shit like that?
Am I supposed to "Oh, thanks," pat they back?
I ain't tryna take away from the experience they had
But, honestly, I'm not prepared for some shit like that
And when they credit myself, they discredit themselves
And the strength that they had, yeah, to better themselves
And they talk about the strength that I have in my songs
But they don't know, behind them stories, there's some shit that's just wrong
And I hear 'em say that it was beautiful
But to me, man, that shit was inexcusable, uh
To talk about a death and not go to the funeral
Tellin' myself, "You gotta swallow all that guilt that chewed at you"
Shit was juvenile, like how was I too cowardly to go to your fuckin' funeral
But still feel like rappin' about your death was fuckin' suitable?
Was I true to you, or usin' you?
Or the unfortunate events to make my songs more moveable
My grief provable?
It's true though, I do wish I could call like shit was usual
Tell you shit's poppin', uh, tell you life's beautiful, uh
But I didn't check on you when you were still here, yeah
And that shit been eatin' at me for this past year, yeah