Keyano
I made this beat before my breakfast, 'bout to have some turkey bacon
Right after this blunt... (Swmph)... that I'm facin'
I feel amazing
I feel my thoughts fill up the spaces
Shower power for an hour then I tie my laces
That's basics, wait six, seconds for a fye rhyme
Like carbon-12 a positive charged ion
I turn the eye on and then I whipped out the pan
Better yet a paper plate 'cause I ain't bout to do no dishes
Microwaves are more efficient
I gotta get back up on my mission
Clock is tickin', cause my Rollie ain't in
Pot to piss in, I got it
A lot of wishes and problems
I'm probably different without them
Still not the holiest man
Saint to sinner, nigga, sinner to saint
I'm what these senators ain't
Young and black if I have to be frank
I got rhythm out the ass and gas in the tank
They got a high credit score, I got cash in the bank
And passion for dank
A bad combination, it seems
Things are always better when you busy chasing your dreams
Or facing your fears
Anything but wasting the years
I know some feigns probably waiting to hear
All of this dope shit
Off white rhymes guess its back to being black again
Dressed in all black on top of black, that's extravagant
Millie Rocking Carolinas, Pierre Bourne established it
Kevin Adams practicing, but still can't do a backwards flip
I put the pencil to paper then I spill out my mind
Leave my brains on the page but it's looking like slime
Brushed it aside, head wide open, inspired
Staring at the grey matter, trying to pick out a rhyme
I'm... drawing pictures, but my hand is just moving
Steady twitching but I can say these lyrics are proven
Sketchy nigga dumping lead and its really amusing
SkiTcha Records what I said, and it's what I'm pursuing
What you do in your spare time, I'm trying to be great
Had to get the sample cleared just to sell it on tape
Got the keys going crazy, threw a kick in your face
Karate chop this shit together, then I export the wav
Right after this blunt... (Swmph)... that I'm facin'
I feel amazing
I feel my thoughts fill up the spaces
Shower power for an hour then I tie my laces
That's basics, wait six, seconds for a fye rhyme
Like carbon-12 a positive charged ion
I turn the eye on and then I whipped out the pan
Better yet a paper plate 'cause I ain't bout to do no dishes
Microwaves are more efficient
I gotta get back up on my mission
Clock is tickin', cause my Rollie ain't in
Pot to piss in, I got it
A lot of wishes and problems
I'm probably different without them
Still not the holiest man
Saint to sinner, nigga, sinner to saint
I'm what these senators ain't
Young and black if I have to be frank
I got rhythm out the ass and gas in the tank
They got a high credit score, I got cash in the bank
And passion for dank
A bad combination, it seems
Things are always better when you busy chasing your dreams
Or facing your fears
Anything but wasting the years
I know some feigns probably waiting to hear
All of this dope shit
Off white rhymes guess its back to being black again
Dressed in all black on top of black, that's extravagant
Millie Rocking Carolinas, Pierre Bourne established it
Kevin Adams practicing, but still can't do a backwards flip
I put the pencil to paper then I spill out my mind
Leave my brains on the page but it's looking like slime
Brushed it aside, head wide open, inspired
Staring at the grey matter, trying to pick out a rhyme
I'm... drawing pictures, but my hand is just moving
Steady twitching but I can say these lyrics are proven
Sketchy nigga dumping lead and its really amusing
SkiTcha Records what I said, and it's what I'm pursuing
What you do in your spare time, I'm trying to be great
Had to get the sample cleared just to sell it on tape
Got the keys going crazy, threw a kick in your face
Karate chop this shit together, then I export the wav
Credits
Writer(s): Kevin Adams
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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