Marooned

I don't want no pizza
I just want a piece of
Pie
Head to the sky
Hood real high
Over my eyes
In and out style got em all like "why"
I don't know "why"
Never met the dude
Me and "who" asked "what" the same question
He was like dude
I don't got the time
And I don't got the patience
If asking all these questions got you paid then I'd be gracious
In my car
Ya I like to spit bars
And my girls straight from Mars
They get all up in your stars
Deer to the brooks; call her Garth
Give her what she came for and let her piece the parts
Damnnn
Imma mess
Walk in with chaos
Order up another MF going AWAL
Frankenstein's monster coming back to haunt the hustler
Deep inside my soul is a soul made of water

I get off
I like to suffer
Bitch I'm all up in your buffer
Conspiracy theorists are more tyranny purists
Who you helping with that jargon boy
I beg ya pardon
Dolly Partons tits
Real or fake?
Honestly; I'd prolly fuck her face
Honestly you'd prolly do the same
If you were bossing on the daily dropping gems like they dates

Keep it negative aye yo
Keep on steady bitching fuck it
Lay low
Don't bet on yourself and don't attain goals
Throw rocks out a house of glass's stained window
Steady garnering my wins tho
I stay popping on a bitch tho
Voices in my head; I think I'm schizo
They tell me that I'm the fucking shit tho

Get ya tummy running with nth low
This ain't what you need; you got the info
Turn a turtle hermit to a rich flow
Diamonds on my dick; peep the brick glow
Climbing; I won't slip up on the drip dough
Business on my glitch; light eclipsed
Whoah aye
This ain't what you want; it's what yo bitch know
Big thick grip; don't trip on the intro
Thalamus affixed to the vision I imprint
Ain't the difference just a bitch?
You should prolly just quit
I'm the MF shit



Credits
Writer(s): Jonathan Paulson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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