my kinda party

Standing on a fraction of the work I put in

Matching every worthless bit of traction that I got from wiggin

Back behind the basket making swishes and the clapping feeling different

Cuz they stagnant wit the rhythm but I mastered every dribble move and facet to the game

Precision passes, quick decisions

Had to get my vision up to bat - I had to practice back to back

And every laugh would make me madder

Never mattered

Let the latter be the fact of every matter

Cuz the chatter only gathered all the pieces that were shattered

Had me sadder than a bitch