When I die fuck it I wanna go to hell Cause I'm a peice of shit It ain't hard to fuckin tell It don't make sense going to heaven with the goody goodies Dressed in silk, I like ripped TRU's and plaid hoodies I been losing it lately, I Let hate take me, I Seen no sober nights Walked that shaky line Dead Americana baby Tell me what you living for My papa from the projects baby My mama outa Liverpool Chicago Ave & lockwood, I don't miss it I grew up where niggas go missing Rags to riches, that's the fuckin mission Quit selling dope, I'm selling fucking tickets to my shows Dead Americana baby, out the jam I fuckin roll Flint town dissipated baby, barley beat the fuckin dope Blunt to the face when I feel the wakes call I left all of my famo back home I been on the road, I been on my own Saw my mama go 18 years ago