We've been talented, all along We think we're fortresses, made of stone But we're just palaces made out of flesh and bone Waiting for our time to shine to come on home Lord, please bless my castle of sand Waiting on a battle, so I handle all in my hand The war forces more toward my door with demands More important than the fortune that you poured in my pan From free-styling to recording advance Can you please reinforce all my borders and bands I should've put it towards some plans Want a forest, gotta water some plants (huh) Normally, ignoring the branch is par for the course But when you hold a culture you can't Can't parkour over a part You gotta march forth over your art And for your fans When you cornered, gotta shorten your stance Lessen your tales, philly-shelled, don't orbit or dance You hear the bell then report to the band Then do whatever that the chorus commands And for the gram' We've been talented, all along We think we're fortresses, made of stone But we're just palaces made out of flesh and bone Waiting for our time to shine to come on home Lord, please bless my mansions of cards If ever challenged, let us camp in the car (uh) Or hang a hammock from a branch in the park A planet made of uninhabited parts (uh) Being anonymous don't grant you some dark Even astronomers keep a camera on mars (uh) Satellites attract where you are And see your blackest night, attack it with sparks (uh) Fireworks are not a match for a star And fire hurts, burns, blackens, and scars (uh) Can still emerge learned, attractive, and sharp From out the ashes of galactic barrage, yeah It gets savage where they traffic mirage It ain't no magic, they in back of secret hatches and frauds You gotta take it back to the start You gotta tap and learn to rap from the heart, yeah We've been talented, all along We think we're fortresses, made of stone But we're just palaces made out of flesh and bone Waiting for our time to shine to come on home Uh, yeah Lord, please bless my palace of bones My soul call my skeleton home, it's on the phone (hello?) Give the receiver back to tyrone, we made a pact, nigga, I'm goin' back home (alright) Yeah, pack my bags, stagger back to the zone With a back full of daggers I've thrown I'm like my own masochist, slash my wrist with a poem, and when I'm gone Don't tamper with or sample my songs, unless you strong Bicep emojis in the group chat Five sets of burpees, don't disturb me if the booth black I'm going through it, got a bunch of baggage on my roof rack I have a lot of habits that produced that They gon' put they tag on it, my condolences to the fast moments Hope the solar system assist my slower mission and put some lag on it Window to my soul, peering inside The crib where my spirit resides, lyrics or die