To The Table

This is thought for food, get it nigga, get it
I'm feeling this fucking beat
This is thought for food
Bronze you're a fool for this one baby
Good looking out on this one
This is thought for food

Ayo, fuck some twenty twos, I'd rather buy a four four
While you chumps lookin' pretty, I'm preparin' for war
I'm like that nigga on the bench, man, waitin' to score
You can tell that I'm anxious, frustration in my face

Ain't nobody put me here, had to earn my place
Took a couple losses, dawg, but I'm still in the race
So fuck frontin' for a bitch, fam, I'm tryna get rich
Paid in full like Ace Boogie, makin' money like Mitch

Why you clowns coppin' whips? Man, I'm playin' with ships
Smokin' purple, stayin' focused while I sip on a fifth
My man, Bronze, put me on so you know I'ma do it
Keep this ill shit movin', keep it flowin' like fluid

Went from guns to the mic
So I rap for the streets
For my niggas in them cell blocks are caught in the beat
Through all the pains and the struggle, how the fuck could I sleep?
Plus I'm hungry, motherfucker, can't rest 'til I eat

This is Thought for Food
Y'all niggas know me, man
Y'know the fuck I represent

Yo, we in the sweatshop, we work hard on our jobs
Dark mobs, the whole block of parked munks takin' shots
Resilient, silent villains, days blacker than Exxon's village
Tuck the pill in paper sack and fuck the millage

My spirit's from the kingdom of Kush, get drunk with Jenna Bush
She like, "Yo, bronze, I love how you cook"
When fam spit the sun out, it turned to onyx days
My moon's bright, spent white nights in the angel's gaze

Dorothy Dandridge's manuscript, pretty as your daughter's kiss
Black clouds, high noon rain on the nemesis
Words made of quran pages you never stood by
And saw thoughts so clear as a man's breath in wintertime

You salutable Jesus feet, glow like the furnace
Voice like Russian waters or vodka from a thermos
Half-baked brain haze, love how your dame taste
You siren's welfare, milk weeks, behind the keep dates

Blunts and snakeskin coils, I got a lot of topsoil
Throw it on coffins with nails from Mars calls
Swim fair bitches, pulls a pre-cum in my britches
Wipe it on her fat ass fuck tissues

Prime and it's honor Mary, ossuary pan store the rhythm
Ran through these bars like I escaped prison
I've risen like locusts in a mausoleum sealed
Terrorized lines like Wu-San's and Mel Gibson's fields

This is thought for food
This is Dark The Fool



Credits
Writer(s): Justin Cross, Aundre Woodland
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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