Mama
Time for action, baby
What a time it's been
Seen a crime or two committed
Whether dim or genuine
Slim thick
I'm right-brained but I'm liberal
I'm writing bars in this cubicle
Tryna find a fucking hobby
Except reversing the crucible
Got that dreamer Cudi swerve
Kia Soul and a dash
Think it's gross
Run you over, attack
You spew the brains and the gore
And they say "No, bitch, I'm Igor"
Blooming like a flower, no
Fuck this stupid metaphor
No, it's not an indie album
As a concept, real shit
Never leave through windows
We gon' be this big
No it's not a debut project
At least with my mindset
King has arrived
We make your burger charred
Keep a record flowing
Song to song, bong to bong
They'll bump this shit from off to on
Like a switch that got stuck
Lights flicker, ain't got time for that
Let it go to strobe and then we bite back
I'm talking to you (Talking to you)
Who is your crew? (Who the fuck?)
We come up, wrap beats and bars
Present to you (Merry Christmas!)
Why ain't you talk? (Why ain't you talk?)
Been cashing the stock (Cashing the stock)
You say we ain't got rules and tools
Nothing to do (Do your chores, bitch!)
Rhyming me with me, it with it
Still sounds right
Not the most lyrical and
It ain't tight (It's all good)
They say to do great things
And then to live my fucking dreams
Give me the truth of the matter
At least I got some funny memes
Another time I let my temper
Get the best of me
Another time I try to look
But I can never see
A schizophrenic prayin' on me
Think he saving me
Imaginary friend think I'm a faggot
Shame on me
Some peace in quiet man
I'm on my knees and begging please
I'm not your damn accessory
Or your fucking friend
Just let me be
I'm sick and tired
You just like me cause I'm gay
Shit, man, go ask my boyfriend
I'd do anything to get laid
By "laid" I'm being honest
If I say I want attention
Hard on for affection
Gets the best of my intentions
Doing damage control
I'm tryna focus on prevention
Stuck in my own mind
With this disorder of obsession
When I'm sulking in my room
The picture might reflect my mental state
Room without a view
Inside a box I can't escape
Note to self, I understand
Surviving is pretty bland
But can we try to be a man
Instead fucking your damn hand?
The cable wrapped around my neck
Is a metaphor for my art form
Suffocating but
The only way I have a platform
Tongue is caught on fire
Pen is burning at the touch
True that the words outlive the writer
But for me is that really saying much?
What a time it's been
Seen a crime or two committed
Whether dim or genuine
Slim thick
I'm right-brained but I'm liberal
I'm writing bars in this cubicle
Tryna find a fucking hobby
Except reversing the crucible
Got that dreamer Cudi swerve
Kia Soul and a dash
Think it's gross
Run you over, attack
You spew the brains and the gore
And they say "No, bitch, I'm Igor"
Blooming like a flower, no
Fuck this stupid metaphor
No, it's not an indie album
As a concept, real shit
Never leave through windows
We gon' be this big
No it's not a debut project
At least with my mindset
King has arrived
We make your burger charred
Keep a record flowing
Song to song, bong to bong
They'll bump this shit from off to on
Like a switch that got stuck
Lights flicker, ain't got time for that
Let it go to strobe and then we bite back
I'm talking to you (Talking to you)
Who is your crew? (Who the fuck?)
We come up, wrap beats and bars
Present to you (Merry Christmas!)
Why ain't you talk? (Why ain't you talk?)
Been cashing the stock (Cashing the stock)
You say we ain't got rules and tools
Nothing to do (Do your chores, bitch!)
Rhyming me with me, it with it
Still sounds right
Not the most lyrical and
It ain't tight (It's all good)
They say to do great things
And then to live my fucking dreams
Give me the truth of the matter
At least I got some funny memes
Another time I let my temper
Get the best of me
Another time I try to look
But I can never see
A schizophrenic prayin' on me
Think he saving me
Imaginary friend think I'm a faggot
Shame on me
Some peace in quiet man
I'm on my knees and begging please
I'm not your damn accessory
Or your fucking friend
Just let me be
I'm sick and tired
You just like me cause I'm gay
Shit, man, go ask my boyfriend
I'd do anything to get laid
By "laid" I'm being honest
If I say I want attention
Hard on for affection
Gets the best of my intentions
Doing damage control
I'm tryna focus on prevention
Stuck in my own mind
With this disorder of obsession
When I'm sulking in my room
The picture might reflect my mental state
Room without a view
Inside a box I can't escape
Note to self, I understand
Surviving is pretty bland
But can we try to be a man
Instead fucking your damn hand?
The cable wrapped around my neck
Is a metaphor for my art form
Suffocating but
The only way I have a platform
Tongue is caught on fire
Pen is burning at the touch
True that the words outlive the writer
But for me is that really saying much?
Credits
Writer(s): Josef Larossi, Savan Harish Kotecha, Andreas Jonas Sammy Romdhane
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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