Prophet

(Conan)

(I might not make sense and that's fine)

Spit a little something for the girlies
I need me a new mattress
No 18-year-olds, mid-30's
Bring your mother over, make magic
Hit 200 in a foreign car
Sippin' on that cactus
Kill the opposition with these fire bars
Medical malpractice
We don't make sense, all we make are bands
We going all in, like poker hands
Yeah, this right here is astronomical
Way I make these beats, so improbable
Taking over the world, diabolical
Production skills, they audible
We so up, aeronautical
Conan era, unstoppable

I might not make sense, and that's fine
Operating on a bad spine
Spit some bars during halftime
Patients dead, flatline
Welcome to my office
No candy jar, just nonsense
Make the drums sound so dogshit
Conan's a prophet

(Dr. Conan, you made this?)

Not the first to do it, also not the best
I'll spit something nasty
Wipe my mouth on my high-vis vest
Then I'll knock 'em off their last knee
Build a beat in a minute
Can't lie, it don't slap
I wish I could tell you something different
It's just bad, like the wage gap
See I'm for the ladies
I almost watched Barbie
Didn't see it in the theater
'Cause no one would drive me
Campbell soup on the stove
Tummy so hungry
Don't get paid til' next week
And SoundCloud don't want me
They know I'm too good for them
This the Conan Cinematic Universe
Put me on vinyl
Brain damage sponsored verse

(I feel amazing)

I might not make sense, and that's fine
Operating on a bad spine
Spit some bars during halftime
Patients dead, flatline
Welcome to my office
No candy jar, just nonsense
Make the drums sound so dogshit
Conan's a prophet

(This is gas)