Exhibition

"So, perfect Sawyer, we'll see you tomorrow, then."

Yeah
Catalytic, special metals in my pistons, get
Incision with the diction, just imaginary fiction
Gotta spin it in your civic, do the dishes in a minute
Moving on a pivot, scrimmage shot selection exhibition
Listen, dimes that I'm dishin', getting buckets like a demon
Fuck a Judas, Nicodemus, whip to Cali in my Prius
You a realist if you feel it, F-list for the critics
Gotta spit it if you get it, fuck the rich, eat elitists
Beat it, pissing on some bitches, what the hell is up with Jesus?
Wasn't written Revelations, it was a sequel from the evil
Walkin' off the plank like you 'bout to walk up on the water
Homie don't repent, if you'll just, do that shit tomorrow
Faro to Algarvo, I'm speaking malo with the Portuguese
I had jefes with a deathwish and asbestos headaches
Pre-diabetes, performing pricks about every Wednesday
Suck a dick, I'll just make my money by rapping heavy
Watch ya wallet, you get accustomed to carteristas
Ya see the target, these bitches liquid for Mona Lisa
But on paper, insolvent and claiming Chapter 7
The involvement is foreign, just like some Russian meddling

But I'm off it, these awful thoughts just slow ya pace
I'm running bases off these bitches with my shoes unlaced
Surely, if I'm up early, I could be causin' quakes
These freaky bitches are frontin' and they don't show their face
I guess it's my fault, inconsistent and drywalled
Emotions cause commotion when unaddressed and prolonged
So I confess, I'm steady as a pylon
Hold in my shit for so long, then drop it off like it's Saigon
Are you real or hopping hills that rappers die on?
Can you feel what you're writing or is it unapparent?
Both my parents were planning that it would be the latter
But I'm presentin' my sentiments on a silver platter
Thank me later, I cut some corners to be ya favorite
Tommy S is saving names and forging waivers
Sometimes I struggle with ending verses and asking favors
So cut the beat and just play it back for complainin' neighbors

"Wow..."