[Verse 1 4AM]
4AM, oh you that hip-hop hipster
Rockin' for the rasta reggae heads
Getting love from kids who love the body bread
Oh he's just trying to show us that he's worth some more than Honus, man how?
Cause he grew up in the desert of deserted dreams
That some shit they never see
Applyin' to the Y-Gen
The Science to the sport
Cause that stork was for our elders, and they tell us tip your hats
All we do is send them love, and all they do is send it back
And they just love, my couplets just raise cups
Man these fucks, there ain't none
Time for domination
Respect to common sense
Gave me it's two cents
To sense if i was making sense
But that scent of success, just gave my outlook on how hook could never fuck with Peter Pan
Now Neverland is where I go to college
When the mileage on my wings
Made me think if I could ever use my Tinker Tailor Solider to help me breathe
In that smog of the lost cause of kissing our moms goodbye
'Cause my crooked smile, made an image of Crooks a born sinner
Make men from mice
Think twice think soon fam
Cause four was that fork that ran away with the spoon fam
*beat change*

[Bridge]
I Have an unshakable belief characterized by consistently inflated feelings of personal ability, privilege and infallibility

*clip*

[Bridge 2]
I refuse to admit the possibility of error and failure
Even in the face of irrefutable evidence and intractable problems

[Verse 2 4AM]
Yeah, this beat just bangin' leave my feet ding-danglin' underneath the sheets
Call me that Wicked Witch of East
That beast of this whole project, got the God Complex hanging on by a thread got the lady in the red dress to bed
Yeah, these dreams are just lucid
My power is far from gifted I can not rank myself with the commons
I'm just trying to beat you, seat you be more the merry mother geese
Jesus, Joseph, owes us, my name is Jonas
Enough of that clock talk just more of that God talk, four
Better cap that G or you'll catch this cap my G
We just, getting buried up in Gettysburg
Replay some shit, they be like what?
And no more who's cause all my where's went into my cup
This meal is a must, when we outa love
Instead of these hugs, flash my mother a deuce not thinkin' about what I can lose
Cause now Booth's got the barrel of ferrel livin' pointed straight to Mr. Lincoln's head
And on the bed of his death, he gets a full page in the yearbook at best, yeah
*clip*