Used to rock a fitted but my head grew
Back when I was young like egg foo
I thought life would be simple
Then I learned that there were rules for how to hold a utensil
Same goes for pencils
I made a mental note that those rules weren't essential
But now when I eat or write I seem provincial
And I don't give a fuck, not even a little
Used to rock a snapback flat brim
You think I'm wack now?
You shoulda seen me back then
I'll make a blanket statement: I love afghans
Art today is one of two things: fire or trash can
And that's the dichotomy of quality
Hieroglyphic etymology review policy, yo
I used to just assume honesty
That theory didn't age well-Ptolemy
I'm not opposed to plastic bag bans
But my stash is getting low for the bathroom trash can
I get q tips stuck at the bottom with no bag
Speaking of which, what's with the social contract
In which the q tip brands claim that they're not for ears
Yet that's what everybody buys em for?
It's fucking weird
I digress
Less concerned with earning critical acclaim
Than getting people to remember
There's no space in my rap name, yo
It's no space, no space
Don't forget the capital N A H
Lowercase r if you wanna get technical
I'ma keep rapping till I'm dead or a vegetable
No space, no space
Don't forget the capital N A H
Lowercase r if you wanna get technical
I'ma keep rapping till I'm dead