Welcome to the Sprinkle Ranch
LumbeRoss and Valhalla Kid
And we raiding places like thunder gods
That ain't' half of it, so now fuck the gossip get mad at it
I'm here to cut your losses like sandwiches
Packed and picked hope you have a good day at school
Now back to this, either love the song or fuckin plan a diss
Against LumbeRoss and Valhalla kid
My expertise is that I don't really know shit
My dream is to die with an unfinished opus
Atomic kush to wipe out the roaches
One trick pony with a million approaches
Deemed unfit only cause I trolled a lot of tories
At a party where they told me they don't know who ken loach is
Happiness a long way away and it's awful
I can feel the automated bravado saying shit like
It's the Paki with the Whacky Backy: the Trinidaddy
You get happy in your khakis while your lackey calls me Papi
But really I'm just sappy with a sense of confinement
Playing endless records, trying to find the sublime and
Solipsistically selecting selfish solitude instead of
Settling for sanctity in the arms of Servitude
Desire won't complete me: it makes me hot as charcoal
Sprinkle is the name of the pursuit of the whole, what's up?
Find me sat in the ranch swimming in a
Pile of tracks with your man immanently
Fight the cause and right the wrongs
The path to ignite the odds tonight is long
Remind them, Ross
Me and Valhalla smoking bales of alfalfa
So we've got a lot of time to revolt in Tegucigalpa
And I'll never be a martyr; I've never read much Sartre
When I overcome depression I'll become a boddhisatva
And we raiding places like thunder gods
That ain't' half of it, so now fuck the gossip get mad at it
I'm here to cut your losses like sandwiches
Packed and picked hope you have a good day at school
Now back to this, either love the song or fuckin plan a diss
Against LumbeRoss and Valhalla kid
My expertise is that I don't really know shit
My dream is to die with an unfinished opus
Atomic kush to wipe out the roaches
One trick pony with a million approaches
Deemed unfit only cause I trolled a lot of tories
At a party where they told me they don't know who ken loach is
Happiness a long way away and it's awful
I can feel the automated bravado saying shit like
It's the Paki with the Whacky Backy: the Trinidaddy
You get happy in your khakis while your lackey calls me Papi
But really I'm just sappy with a sense of confinement
Playing endless records, trying to find the sublime and
Solipsistically selecting selfish solitude instead of
Settling for sanctity in the arms of Servitude
Desire won't complete me: it makes me hot as charcoal
Sprinkle is the name of the pursuit of the whole, what's up?
Find me sat in the ranch swimming in a
Pile of tracks with your man immanently
Fight the cause and right the wrongs
The path to ignite the odds tonight is long
Remind them, Ross
Me and Valhalla smoking bales of alfalfa
So we've got a lot of time to revolt in Tegucigalpa
And I'll never be a martyr; I've never read much Sartre
When I overcome depression I'll become a boddhisatva
Credits
Writer(s): Ross Hurley
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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