Product of the Past (feat. Smith the Poet & Whose)

Yeah we know how it go in your dome
Life a digit, you a bigot for the dough
Merely fragment the whirlwind's control
Rather twirl pissed and throw up the throne
Damn y'all my bad
Didn't mean to stab a motherfucker in the back
But greed in my grasp, I fiend for the scraps
Yeah, just a product of the past
We know how you roll in the known
Life a smidgen, you a pigeon for the dough
Merely sadness, the surface, the soul
Rather burn bliss and sulk while I'm stoned
Damn y'all my bad
Didn't mean to shoot motherfucker for his stats
But greed got my gat, woe is we still the rats
Yeah, just a product of the past

Searching for my worth, not my Worry-Free
Learning off the curve, it don't work for me
Concurrently they con currency
Using cons for the job it's an odd murder scene
Bargains at the shop off the no-relief
Margins on the offers all we told to see
They don't want an autumn on the gold received
They should rot in green, let me bottle up your sorcery
Watch 'em get sore with me
'Cause I'm disorderly and they expect a forgery
Known for the former if you don't endure the lore
Wolves will get you on the floor if they're blowing down your doors
Wars in the name of George, holding a fleur-de-lis
You can pour me in the gorge, gore my organs on the beach
But I tore my orders up, not a soldier for a fleet
Hopping borders if it coming to the morgue recording me

Yeah we know how it go in your dome
Life a digit, you a bigot for the dough
Merely fragment the whirlwind's control
Rather twirl pissed and throw up the throne
Damn y'all my bad
Didn't mean to stab a motherfucker in the back
But greed in my grasp, I fiend for the scraps
Yeah, just a product of the past
We know how you roll in the known
Life a smidgen, you a pigeon for the dough
Merely sadness, the surface, the soul
Rather burn bliss and sulk while I'm stoned
Damn y'all my bad
Didn't mean to shoot motherfucker for his stats
But greed got my gat, woe is we still the rats
Yeah, just a product of the past

Twilight vision quest, surrounded by some better men
Mind filled with excrement, could use some potent medicine
Days feel as pointless as adventures from the minute men
Looking at the data and I'm being told to disengage
I lost control of my life
Yet I wonder if I had my hands on most of the pipe
Moon shows a resemblance to home and a light
Where I can grab my running shoes out of the zone of the mice
Homies sit me down real close and say I show lots of might
In the face of any foe who grows in rage of the kike
I lace my boots and start to climb the stairs prepare for the fight
This is for that lonely soldier messaged strangers on skype
SO, tales spoke of a souped-up pork eye
Who gave a thumbs up like Yusuke Godai
Crows shouting at them that they should go die
As fearful as the big-chin Brit with the bow tie

Yeah we know how it go in your dome
Life a digit, you a bigot for the dough
Merely fragment the whirlwind's control
Rather twirl pissed and throw up the throne
Damn y'all my bad
Didn't mean to stab a motherfucker in the back
But greed in my grasp, I fiend for the scraps
Yeah, just a product of the past
We know how you roll in the known
Life a smidgen, you a pigeon for the dough
Merely sadness, the surface, the soul
Rather burn bliss and sulk while I'm stoned
Damn y'all my bad
Didn't mean to shoot motherfucker for his stats
But greed got my gat, woe is we still the rats
Yeah, just a product of the past