HomeMade Lyrics

All these lyrics, all these beats I'm cooking up, it's all homemade

Home state, KY boy, still rapping from my bedroom (okay)

Tryna tell em 'bout how I work, yeah, it's homemade

Started from scratch, now I'm performing for the kids (okay)

Had a lot to say since 2021

Been thinking' out loud on all these tracks

But now I wanna talk 'bout where I'm from

From rolling hills on Peach Grove

And Sunday School's rolling stone

Talking' bout Jesus Christ, not talking' bout Mick Jagger bro

But I can't forget Cory Lane

Where I was raised in the culdesac

Shoutout AM, been like my sister from way back

Anyway enough of that reminiscing on the old days

Lemme tell you how I ended up doin this rap thang

Messed with loops on my iPhone and was writing all through middle school

I loved the craft but never seemed to learn how to mix the two

Until I did, so I bought a Mac off my dad's friend

My studio went from the bedroom to the basement to my bedroom, now that's where it is

That's where this here all began

So now when I tell you it's all homemade, I hope you'll understand

That I've put my ten thousand hours in all from my room

And I'll put ten thousand more in if that's what it takes to spread the truth

'Cause the truth is I wouldn't be here without God

He gave me the talent, now I'm just showing it off

All these lyrics, all these beats I'm cooking up, it's all homemade

Home state, KY boy, still rapping from my bedroom (okay)

Tryna tell em 'bout how I work, yeah, it's homemade

Started from scratch, now I'm performing for the kids (okay)

There's no scholarships for this rap game

You could win a gold statue or maybe sign to a label that'll want everything

But gold statues become idols

And most labels just want the money from your fame

So I'm independent unless God says different

Yeah, and I'm not working for no awards my reward is in Heaven

I just rap to show these cats I'm gifted

And point whoever listens to the Most High

Let His name be lifted

Hot air balloon how I'm going up

Gotta stay prolific, tend to the fire

No gimmicks, I'm here to inspire

Somebody go and grab a lighter

(Okay)

They expect me to spit fire

Keep it clean, through the wire

Braces on— ahh, alright

They expect me to spit fire

Keep it clean, through the wire

Braces on, boy, brace yourself

They expected me to rap real fast

Like na-na-na, la, da-da-da

But I'd rather keep it simple

Make sure you hear my lyrics

Don't wanna pop like pimple

Cause that could get messy

You know what I mean?

Do it homemade

From the soul, what that mean

Cause my home is Heaven

My art comes from God

He's everlasting,

That's why I cannot stop

Make it all from my bedroom

But I ain't making it alone

God's my co-writer

It's cliché, yes, I know

But it's the truth

Nothing but that

Tappin' in to the Spirit

Gave me this gift to rap

All these lyrics, all these beats I'm cooking up, it's all homemade

Home state, KY boy, still rapping from my bedroom (okay)

Tryna tell em 'bout how I work, yeah, it's homemade

Started from scratch, now I'm performing for the kids (okay)