Bad Dreams (feat. Ghetto Ghost) Video (MV)

Yo, once upon a time, had dreams of the big benzes
Then I got it all, now all that shit seems senseless.
Audible screams, all of my dreams surrounded by fences.
Caged away from the world yet still feel plagued by its intent.
Since the beginning, I wanted wins, but ended with opposite
Quickly learned my innocence wasn't gonna give me opulence.
Here I go, they still fearing the flow
Getting this dough, rear view, steering from police lights of the city
Got me breaking my lease. Making more on my own and these jobs paying the week
Now I'm paying myself, I'm spending cycle repeats.
Niggas have no idea how vicious business can be
All that boss shit sounds sweet when it's on a beat.
This shit's stress, time, and heat
Deadlines to meet the Lord.

Turn into dreams, dreams turn into winners. That gave me a brand
New perspective on how to get it like.
Scores turn into sixes, the whores turn into women
In this game of life, I stopped keeping score on how I'm living.
I made the transition when the Porsche came from the Civic.

So many quarters in a trap, it's like an arcade. Balls so hard
The kitchen floor was laid and made with parquet.
Started off with one, then franchised the boy like Paul A.
Dropped it in that Britney, then I hit it with that Sade.
Turned it into Michael
Billie Jean, and now we lightin' up the block.
Water whippin', had me flippin'. Now I'm Mike Tyson, a pot,
I'm on my raw wave. Hops, they wanna see me on a tombstone.
Instead of in this deed, inside this new home.
40 with the laser and the switch, man, the stick became my new chrome
In this trigger, I have it on repeat, like a new song.
Propping margins rising like global warming the explanation.
Put the white hair to brown hair, just like segregation.
Let it bubble, then watch it levitate, you know elevation.
And watch the fiends quiet down in peace, just like meditation
Road trips like family vacations.
Got off ten and made a hundred, the anticipation.
To break the ceiling, hit a million, we just being patient.
Haters fail, we throwing techs, cause all I hit is flagrant, it's ghost.
Grim Reaper Johnny, hoodie with the Tommy.
Biscuits closed like Martin when he had his mommy.
Yeah, I'm from the streets for certain.
Never had a stain on my jacket
I don't use cheap detergent.
Keep a shooter beside me, and he geek for purging.
Plus I keep a bad bitch, and she geek for splurging.
Houses on the hills, meetings with the family.
Foreign cargarages, all I paint is candy.
All this gold around me is f*cking my neck up.
And I just left the jeweler and f*cked another check up.
It's ghost. G