Bad news knockin’ at my door again,
blood on the beat, I let it all in.
Momma said pray, I said I’m sinning,
cash in the coffin, the Devil keep grinning.
Texts from my ex say she pregnant—maybe,
dope in the duffel, the test says negative.
I can’t trust the sky, it’s falling every verse,
pour the Henny on the hearse, watch the liquor do the dirt.
Bad news, bad news, tattooed on my mood,
if tomorrow never comes, at least the night was rude.