Dear Elon, I wrote you, but you still ain’t callin’

I left my cell, my pager and my home phone at the bottom

I sent two letters back in autumn, you must not’ve got 'em

There prob’ly was a problem at the post office or somethin’

Sometimes I scribble addresses too sloppy when I jot 'em

But anyways, fuck it, what’s been up, man? How’s your daughter?

My girlfriend’s pregnant too, I’m 'bout to be a father

If I have a daughter, guess what I’ma call her? I’ma name her Grimes