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作曲 : Griffin Lee
Hoarding in abundance of nothingness
Sitting before a buffet of knuckles and fists
I guess I’m ruffled a bit
Five fifths, and I’m no one’s property
Oh, you’ve been reading Nietzsche again?
Preaching will to power to social deviants
Who broke treaties in the sheep skin
Elbows ashin’
Shell toes matchin’
Ignoble savage in the Thraxxhouse with too much passion
Feasting off the Gulag’s rations
Hardly dedicated criminals
Whole team function like a faucet that also
Filters out the minerals
Mighty Negro with my spirituals
Ruby Yacht in its most bountiful miracles
Yanked from my shirt sleeve in the autumn of the patriarch
Arms full of lazy art
Arms full of lazy art
I don’t **** with Cubase
I don’t own a Cuisinart
Enough about me, though, who are you?
Wha-, What do you what?
[laughs]
What do you what?
What do you what?
[That is the-]
What do you what?
What do you what?
What do you what?
I’m under heather grey candle light
Wonder why I never play the satellite
Never had a kite
Or a spinning top
Project cinder blocks
Interlocked tight for the winter
Shopping at K-Mart
An adventure but I stay dark and ashy
Part jazz seed, head first, heart lastly
This is intent supplement
Government workers lurking
Frosted mullet tips
They ain’t never foolin’ me though
Distracted with incredible burritos
And some self help nonsense
Suppress it in the libido
I keep my chest protected like I’m D-Lo
Round as surround sound
I flourish though
Upside vertigo
Downtown sign where the line Color Purple go
My minds on the surface though
In a train car rewinding the circle slow
Mic check, mic check, open mic check
Shout out to Open Mike, milo
To the homies Ramel, CC, what up?
Y’all know what it is
I wear my heart on my sleeve
Keep condoms on my utility belt
Break continents when the rhymes spit are visually felt
Rhyme monstrous, felt pen tight, Tonka ****
Gin and tonic, chronic, hydraulic lift when I drop ****
Planetarium alignment axis, off topic, biopics, offensive line, carbon drop kick
High five the LA skyline
Hardcore hot ****, like the center of the Third Rock is
We got this locked since the triceratops
Tell a hippopotamus that hip hop is trioptic
Airing out the ostrich, underground hard ****
Tearing down walls with thoughts I spit conscious
Until my ‘campus feels accomplished
I wanna watch time tick sitting on my wrist
And sit calm for a sitcom, but I flow krypton
Knocking Superman on his feet with his kicks on