My mind is made.
I need to get paid.
Every day I got a list of things to do, by being patient and pushing through.
Apply to jobs daily, study one chapter and judge people, barely.
Worry about yourself and your family.
Each man got to hold his own down, like gravity.
Apparently, more times you’ve living slack by going to work then coming right back, home.
Eating and sleeping, being burnt.
Out and about, shoot for the stars.
Me? I’ve been gunning for Mars.
All the while, you’re there eating my bars, chewing mars.
Silly, stop provoking pointless displays of your uselessness.
Fight for yourself so you can use and abuse this shit.
Use it to your advantage and be smart, just look at Bart, getting held back in the 3rd grade for nearly the century mark.
I know what I have to do and the only thing stopping me is doing it all the way through.
I got to plan this out like the Italian job.
Drive to reach for that far star and create a strategy that will work for me.
It’s cool; I’m going to anchor this like my name was Ron Burgundy.
Regardless a plan is just a plan.
I can’t speak about it till I get it or hit it with what I’m saying I can.
Damn, a lot of thoughts running through my head.
All of my dreams need to be achieved before I’m dead.
I’m no saint, no savior or a motivational speaker.
Just being clever like a beaver and pushing through the fever, like Dirk did.
Raise my hands high to signify I was worth this high, note it, wrote it, and showed it
I’m fighting my mind to make it.
I’m no fool but I’ve been loafting for too long now.
I’m on my goal set mind, oh it’s on now.