Psychic Termite Hive

Braga choocha the producer
Mixing beats in a juicer
Sour sour sour ting like kombucha
Sometimes i walk sometimes i stumble
Knock myself down just to keep myself humble
Sometimes i rap sometimes i mumble
I'm just stuck in the jungle
Arms growing branches feet going fungal
Mind enhances as my knees go crumble
Went from a seed stuck in the clay
To a tree that likes to sway
Trying to get super super high
Trying to spiral in the sky
Guess i spiraled too many times
Hit the ground that's a demise

Decay in the clay still feel alive
Decay in the clay but i know ill thrive
I'm a psychic termite hive
Transmitting a chill chill vibe
Transmitting a chill chill vibe

D to the E
D to the E to the N to the V
D to the E to the N to the V to the ER
Yeah we know who you are
Come to your house come to your bar
Come to your work yeah come to your park
Walk up in ya face and spit some heavy bars
(Braga choocha in the fucking house)
Sold a few twigs without the tax
Yeah i did a few things with out the mask
Yeah i slap a booty don't have to ask
Yeah gangsta rap and all of that
Psychedelic trap off beat boom bap
Yeah that's jack Playing loud at the back
Everyone's like get out the room jack
(Get out the room jack)
So I hype up the parking lot
I grab my mic and my party box
I grab my keys When I hear cops
It's still are party And we off
No helmet pass the road blocks
Don't like the plastic don't like the botox
Just real shit legitimate can I have a hit just a little bit
Coz I need a bit a green while I spit this shit
(While i spit this shit)
Braga choocha in the fucking house