afro futurism

Esoteric, generic
Zombie chasin' a carrot, a ferret on solid ground
Remembers a hound dog, don't bark at the sun
This a dog-eat-dog world, she got family to hunt
It's that time of the month

Blunt, bitches and booze, I could smoke on a good mood
You could squabble in the comments, bitch
You are a comet
Orbit 'round me, let my sun shine on you
Third degree, the burn sting, don't say I ain't warned you, nigga

I'm sendin' little books to little bears
Money on the commissaire, solitaire
Mimicking a home
The phone is a shotgun, the mailbox a possum
My letters play dead as they watch from the stockroom
What's a costume party with no kids?
A bundle of night sticks, a huddle of grown men
Chest heavy, breathin' like they god

Uh, slow demented
No incentive to ask, pretence so, so temptin'
To add sentence to sentence
This verse could wrong one three fifths a human
New cats that did ten, too black to not fend
For they life, tightrope the matrix 'til we die

The sky says I'm still alive
The sky says I'm still alive
The sky says we're still alive

First I stayed on the island for like a few months, blah-blah-blah, processin'
Went to the box, I love the box
The box, I love the box on the island
I ain't had to deal with none of them fake niggas
Everybody you locked up with was a gangsta, and they was gettin' it
And everybody innocent
How you could be gettin' it and innocent at the same time?
Oh, my god
So, then I went to the box, and I was by myself
And I was like, "This is great," you know what I'm sayin'?