[Intro] This ain’t for the flexers. This for the ones who hated what they became but ain’t know how to eat different. [Verse 1] Dope boy blues got a smell you don’t forget, plastic bags, burnt spoons, unpaid rent. I saw the fiends as people, that made it worse, selling slow death while I’m ducking my own curse. I ain’t proud, I ain’t clean, I ain’t innocent at all, I just had dreams too big for them broke-down walls. Daddy wasn’t there, bills was in the kitchen, mama working hard, lights still blinking. First time cash came fast, I thought I found freedom, then the same cash built cages I couldn’t see then. Everybody want the profit, nobody want the cries, nobody want to talk about the look in they eyes. I seen somebody’s uncle turn into a shadow, seen somebody’s daughter walk the road with no battle. And I still counted money like it didn’t mean shit, till my own damn soul started feeling counterfeit. [Hook] I got blues for a dope boy, tears for the block, 808 knocking like the cops at the spot. I got pain in my pocket, shame in my hand, trying to be better than the boy I had been. Blues for a dope boy, Lord, let it ring, dirty money never bought a clean dream. I was lost in the trap, but I’m finding my voice, singing blues for a dope boy. [Verse 2] The game don’t love you, it use you then eat you, make your heart cold then punish what it teach you. Friends turn informants, plugs turn ghosts, bad nights turn men into cautionary quotes. The judge don’t hear hunger in a sentence report, just charges, priors, and a system built short. But still I own mine, can’t blame all the world, I made choices that could’ve broken somebody’s girl. Now I’m trying to wash my hands in honest labor, but stains don’t leave just because you changed behavior. You gotta wake every morning and choose a new route, while the old life screaming from your old damn mouth. I still hear phones buzzing that I don’t answer, still smell old smoke like a slow-growing cancer. But I’m breathing, I’m writing, I’m telling this truth, hoping pain become proof. [Bridge] Ooooh, dope boy blues… What did the streets do to you? Ooooh, dope boy blues… Can a dirty hand still choose? [Final Hook] I got blues for a dope boy, tears for the block, 808 knocking like the cops at the spot. I got pain in my pocket, shame in my hand, trying to be better than the boy I had been. Blues for a dope boy, Lord, let it ring, dirty money never bought a clean dream. I was lost in the trap, but I’m finding my voice, singing blues for a dope boy. [Outro] Yeah… That scale don’t weigh guilt right. It always come back heavier.
