[Verse 1: Cameron Uzoka] Forever young I was never subject to age But yesterday was my master and the present became my slave Eighteenth century Americans calling me from a cave And the only title I gained was the page No extremes I'm neither gangster or k**er Philosopher or Grammy Winner, ho But baby I've done dirt Worked and went church but my soul yearned for the white And I learnt through experience living is not life and I Had to wrap crack with a cyphe Ironic how I was blinded by the light Lucifer was never my type Burn the attire you came in Dosen't it burn when your substitute for a makeshift So I made shifts, I sold to a fiend And as I fulfilled his dreams, his teens were becoming lean So no food in the fridge cause' daddy was smoking something A monologue from a kid living in London allow me to speak [Verse 2: Cameron Uzoka] Glamour, glamour, heir to an heir Highlights glimmer standing tall is her fear Never stumbles, humble reflection of her make up Fear does the work but reality never makes up Pursues a career in modelling But her modal oparandi is hustling Oooh she has nice thighs Good with paper millionaires singing white lies Purity is saying bye bye She confines in a rapper But all his poppadoms is what she finds in his wrapper Abused by the trust the lust the sinful thinking His brain wants brain what is he thinking A living corpse aching for human touch Preferably a female or a male to touch He was a dealer with a wretched demeanor But fame caught him by his nuts and his nuts are now making him nuts now that's nuts dawg [Verse 1: Cameron Uzoka] I remember a Christmas in the millennia A Christmas of no presents and no gifts Living in a temporary house smelling like old crisps My mummy set traps to k** a mouse my daddy laughed at his spouse While I laid upon the couch they were counting money for rent As I resented their financial status This is poverty's playlist I adored those who were aimless Out till' its dark parties of celibate ravers at ten I couldn't separate between gangster, banker a foe or a friend In my house sharing is the vogue a fashionable trend Fatigue on my daddy's face as he laid on the bed Why you ask holler at z, murder murder Howling through my vicinity As mothers shed more water than baptism in ministries This happened when I was making a plan Now Satan wants the contents laid in my hands For real