Shredders, Sims, P.O.S. - Style Boys

Текст песни

Danger, danger, fear and anger
I see dead people when I talk to strangers
Scar where the stomach stops
Gotta get these bundles off
Bubbles in the soft focus
Shark wearer, spy hunter, shank owner
Dank burner, no limit top of the tank turner
Spot earner, plot thickener
Fingerprints, rubber on the Glock, alibi non sequitur
It wasn’t like we weren’t cookin'
We just got hung up on which direction we were lookin'
Proof is in the puttin' up the art
Might’ve framed a couple more
But every story’s got its arc
In any case, that was somethin' for the grudge holders to
Adjudicate
Pushing this human race car 'til the fumes escape
Did some wrongs, made a few mistakes
But that’s for you to throw the book at
I was panicked by impermanence
Working on some pertinent
Missed it on the first pitch, now I see the curve spin
A little worse for wear
Bad flying bird in the turbulent air (ay)
I studied rhymes to let the mind unwind
Now I make the words for work
What a sweet high five, pardon him
The heart got caught up in the nouns and verbs
The marketing seemed absurd
What part of parsin' a person apart for productin'
Made a truer self, when you knew the sell was the artifice?
I spot a fake and dissect it
The place is feeling like the Brexit
Came with a warning, home feeling foreign right now
The white sheets sleeping in the White House
Feed filled with personal brands
I got a few new demands
A rag and a gas can, damn he’s at it again
The language
The paint
The sanguine
Bad to the marrow in the pan, crunch bones
Sad boys get the grown man hush tones
Back hand flushed in they lame face
Save for the high five placed in the same place
No starts, no hearts neither
Serve up severe, steer clear of the theater
Accidentally fall for every real one
Casually lost when each one steals one
Zelda with the half a heart
Controller died before the level up had settled in
So when I try to boost and measure up I never win
Character stay blinkin'
Tryna get a handle what these baddies might be thinkin'
But I don’t care, really I couldn’t spare a neuron
Tossing brain cells at a peak of what’s beyond maybe
But not y’all, prolly nothin' of the sort
Rather rock a box a nails and
Hammer up a sturdy tree fort like home
The language
The paint
The sanguine
Amped in the basement
Camped in a place where the station is sacred
Dialed in, tuned up, ready
Dialed in, tuned up, ready, yeah
Practiced and patient
Stamped with a seal, it’s the real, no replacement
Dialed in, tuned up, ready
Dialed in, tuned up, ready to go
Amped in the basement
Camped in a place where the station is sacred
Dialed in, tuned up, ready
Dialed in, tuned up, ready, yeah
Practiced and patient
Stamped with a seal, it’s the real, no replacement
Dialed in, tuned up, ready
Dialed in, tuned up, ready to go