Hateful is the dark-blue sky
Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea
Death is the end of life; ah, why
Should life all labour be?
Yea i'm lotus eating so i keep it close and never show the reason
I live in my own head but i'ma let you know the secret
Hocus pocus you on notice so you know i'm beastin'
Working out some kinks
I'm a prototype of Frodo-Jesus
On a quest to get the ring but gettin' tore to pieces
Thrown up on a cross but now it's tombstone rollin' season
If you ain't know now you know flows cold
Fallen angels in the snow like 6 below freezing
Rap city maybe rap bohemian but lately maybe
Catch me with a mask on scheming them
It's like that air more like ass y'all breathing in
While you screamin' bout a mask go on breathe it in
Vax on vax off they don't whip it that raw
Prolly doing coke cut with fentanyl and bath salt
Like dawg that's your ass fault
I ain't even know they made em that soft
I'm on an island looking like i live in Nassau
Chewing on a lotus to forget all of my past lost
Won't be tasked for some bangers and mash
All cap with that mask on even with your mask off
What's some small pox to some napalm
What's an eye roll to a face palm
I just shake my head then i play dumb
Catch me at the tree picking flowers
What's some small pox to some napalm
What's an eye roll to a face palm
I just shake my head then i play dumb
Catch me at the tree picking flowers
Catch me at the tree picking flowers
For hours at the tree picking flowers
Catch me at the tree picking flowers
For hours and hours and hours
Black Plastique
I worship a God of Death
Carry the moss covered crucifix
Dub God, gold dagger sacrifice kids
Never seen a season painted the way that we invoke
Throw away your rhymes, my nigga it's time to decompose
I sold my soul for solo gold, the benefits is power old,
Locate the fake with echoes,
Drop the elbow off the top rope (GERONIMO)
Excellence of execution
'87 Whitney Houston
You wanna dance? Nobody loves you, I can prove it
We the upper echelon, vices go unpunished
Sex and mayhem sanctioned by drugs and money
Keep my distance from the dirty work I never touch the mud,
Just chill in a old whip, like slave blood
Erase my mind with exotic narcotics,
Two flowers, semiotics, semi auto expose
Containers of forbidden knowledge
Flower picker, rich nigga,
Never peel the price sticker, Fuck witcha, dope pitcher
LINNIL
Wake and bake
Catch me at the tree pickin flour
With the dirt under my fingernails I bring em hell
Lord knows I'm meaning well
Unfuckwittable
Though the buzz is digital
Love to the lusters
That gun tuck the physical
Fighting demons so I keep the nunchucks cyclical
Crippled wit belief that when you die it's all blackness
But if that's the fact I'd prolly be more relaxed then
Home in the city morgue, zoned by the city board
Looking for a throne but my bones feeling weary Lord
Just a stone's throw from a clone in a CD store
What the fuck he did it for? Tryna escape
Cuz reality'll make you put a 9 to ya face
Thinking trying to relate'll put the time in its place
Keep the climb but the only thing you finding is space
When they fry you up at least they gone admire the taste
Why I believe that, is because I know how it feels
When you sing it, I know what it does to you
And I know the EVIL feeling that you feel
When you sing it
I know the lost position that you get into with
The Beat, the beat, the beat