DOWN CATACLYSMIC

Man, shoutout to my brother Sam for paving the way
For me to walk into a Target, buy some Hamm's underage
Remember back when Pops was always on my ass 'bout some grades
Now I pull up to the dealer and I ask for the Range
And now I pull up to your mom, she spitting sexual phrases
I'm giving her these strokes and now she giving me praises
They always say, "Kermode Zay you just can't miss"
Every verse a piece of art, here you should frame this
Up in the Louvre or whatever they call that shit up in Paris
Even my unreleased shit would make Picasso embarrassed
Just ripped a bong that looked like Rick from the show Rick & Morty
Now I'm spitting shit that makes your friends and family adore me
Now I'm reminiscing how it was back at seventeen
Buying gas station carts off the BP on 7th Street
Now I'm chiefing pressure on the regular, like I'm running the trap
Got so much on my mind like Abe Lincoln with the hat
I pack a gat but pray I don't gotta use it
You'd think these bars are just music, to me this shit's therapeutic
That means I do this shit for therapy
Like Johnny Nash, no more rain, I see with clarity (oh yeah)
I'm really doing me, spreading love, living carefree
But some y'all hating on the next up like a Pharisee
And what I write scare rappers like they reading some Larry King
So if you said I ain't the hottest out, then that's just heresy (ayyy)

I got a Spotted Cow jersey on me, yeah we drink indigenously
Golden gradient just like the Eau Claire sunset skies I'm kissing
Not anymore though, kush I been inhaling lately hasn't been hitting
Clouds to the ceiling, numb to all feeling, holes in my lungs as they pleading by singing
My ears are ringing, hope I don't get worse at mixing
Hopefully it's temporary like a book straight out of a library, my bars are scary
I'm always grinding, need a tooth fairy
Too bad that shit be imaginary like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny
The sweeter the juice, the blacker the berry
Because some fuckers ain't been fortunate enough to have something to believe in
We aiding in to the debt-ination of our planet with y'all Christmas dealing
Y'all culture stealing, money fiending
Oppress the poor 'til they die on the street, scheming on the bodies of women
Guess freedom ain't a thing no more
It's ironic 'cause this is America, everything that I'm doing seem federal
While Trump supporters fuck cousins in trailer parks
Only chug water while you all drink 7-Up
I'm leveling up, you leveling down
Your bitch already on the bottom floor, you a clown
She been down on me since like seven o'cock I mean clock, now she mounting (yuh)
She mounting me bitch (aye)
Got your girl on my dick (yuh, aye)
Alright Neem, take it away (ah)

Never introduce myself I'm like, "bitch you know who this is"
Creeping up so stealthily that no one even notices
Moving like the fucking Grinch, I'm robbing Christmas bonuses
Wicked like Senate and House contributing to homelessness
God damned if I ain't getting money in big amounts
God damned if I'm a clip, I would hold a hundred rounds
Oh shit! I ran out of weed, I need to cop an ounce
Going goofy off this looney blunt, I'm smoking Mickey Mouse
Think I see cartoons in the trees, is this shit even real?
Think your shit is sweet? I'll leave you bitter like a lemon peel
Hurt a bitches feelings and she tried to ask how I would feel
Bitch I'm cold as hell, I'm using puppies as a riot shield
OH! You'll never guess which angle I'll be coming from
OH! I'm so heated I could melt the fucking sun
OH! Losing all control but I just let it run
Devil tried to steal my soul but they ain't never gave me one
I'm a fucking menace, in my safe is something dangerous
Multi-lingual, I could beat your ass in seven languages
Traveling through space and time, I'm questioning what day it is
Going dumb but get more brain than Harvard, Yale and Cambridge
Everybody asking what I'm up to, you don't have to know
Demon going to sleep in a coffin, my Dracula Fleau (ha, ha)
I'm so paranoid I can't sit down with my back to the door
See somebody coming through, I'm dropping yo ass to the floor
Cancelling your concept of reality, cruising through time
Always I'm harassing you motherfuckers using my rhyme
Losing my mind when I step inside going mad for the booth
I don't even have to try, I'm still moving faster than you

I have no sympathy
I live for this shit
This shit ain't nothin' to me man
I'm nice widdit
Ha, ha
My money long
My pockets deep
No pocket watchin' in these parts
We straight gassin', cuttin' straight to the bricks
Chanel optics got me seein' shit



Credits
Writer(s): Robert Buckley
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link