Each morning, my man goes downtown
Where everyone falls, and he's lost
In an angry land, he's a little man

9 A.M., eyeing him
My eyes widening
Feeling like it's Groundhog Day, he gotta try again
Riptide tide with thoughts of retiring
Pride flies and he wired me some [bad word] and inspirement
So I can't fail him
He gets the mail and he's off
Like a movie trailer with those long roads and it costs
I wish you could retain the way he's losing his patience [bad word] transit, travel constantly, the fame motivation
Check cashing day, knowing my face on the spot
The bank teller should embrace him when he talks in slots
And not a day of rest, he walks twenty blocks
And brings me what the villain's got
little money, little presents I could kill 'em rock
Ready stalking with them, having dark visions of choking [censored]
And [bad word] [censored], but of course it's his job
And he can't understand why I worry so much
Because he's my man, [bad word] 
Each morning, my man goes downtown
Where everyone falls, and he's lost
In an angry land, he's a little man

He's busting his [bad word] like figure skaters falling
Discussing the past label problems, [censored] calling him
It's my drama he's falling in; my momma, she stalling him [bad word] out the door and she's saying, "Go to the store," and then [bad word] out on no food
I feel him getting close to postal
Getting robbed by a [bad word] for ProTools
And he won't tell me about [censored] in Tennessee
I swear that [bad word] s dead -- I could picture the funeral, Hollering like soon he'll be picking jewelry
I be like, if I was you, I'd be excluding me
He won't go; he smokes, though, just to get by
They [bad word] up his high with phone calls
I swear to God, I wish he'd [bad word] up in [censored], stab [censored] in the back
And flip the table over, take his wallet, kick his throat in
And leave the knife attached to a note, smoking

Each morning, my man goes downtown
Where everyone falls, and he's lost
In an angry land, he's a little man

Man, [bad word] [censored] and [censored] and [censored]
Colin ran around for a month and niggas ain't calling
I hate him going to these meetings, trying to explain
Why Jean is the next thing; I fiend for the ending
I scream when he's leaving, man, I hate them
He doesn't write no more; drawings, he doesn't make them
Pause, we the relation; calls heeded, forsaken
All Colin's creative; Lord, how does he make it?
Naw, I couldn't, maybe, cause Jean's not as good at
Bottling up feelings, feeling all positive when I shouldn't
I'm going with him, bringing some basement to it
In the [bad word]  find a nice place to place my foot in
But he paces my footing, tries to place the good in
Keeps the paper chase going, [bad word] Why shouldn't I worry that what good am I? [bad word]  I'll love the man til I die, c'mon

Each morning, my man goes downtown
Where everyone falls, and he's lost
In an angry land, he's a little man