333

Ten gallon hat, guess I'm up to bat
But not up to par with the bar you set
Of expectations that reach Mars
I go too far to get inches when I'm giving yards
So check your cards, cause I may slip an ace
Take your money and an 8th to the face
Don't feel like this my place, but no place feels like that anyway
So I guess the feeling gives me something to say
My words don't hold value in the scheme of this race
Steam building up and you can tell like there's a gauge on my face
Revolver pumping just to save my ass one more time
Bullet skim pass way too close and that'll put you in your place
Hear my momma voice in my head saying "stay safe"
But if my life ain't on the line does that make it a waste