Home Studio Lyrics - Chance The Rapper

Young black boy, how he got the labels scared? 

A&R's like, "Chano, you ain't playin' fair! 

You gon' set a bad example for the average bear 

You a Yogi, you should idle while in child's position" 

I be like, naw, these my sons, this prenatal care 

I'mma show em how to make it here and make it fair 

Take it there, they could kill me and I ain't gon' care 

You is just an ankle weight, lighter than some angel cake 

Sweeter than some maple syrup, easier than Ableton 

Make a plate and make a player 

Make em play it 

Just don't count your sheep before they hatch 

Your chickens 'fore your eggs 

Eat your dinner 'fore you say your prayer 

I'm back up in this bitch I'm back up in this... 

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Young tactician, just got my taxes finished 

Beat the tortoise by a hair in an '04 Ford Taurus 

On a spare with a wax finish 

There's a lot of metaphors, you just lack vision 

You just bad business 

UH! 

All your shit been lower case 

Lower class, lower key 

I'm the only minor minority in priority 

Sippin' gin and tonic while I plot upon authority 

Author of my horoscope, feeling like the oracle 

Ain't no rules, nigga 

IGH! 

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