Earth Dab

Intro:

One, two, one, two, two, two, two, two, yeah, man, I slap the mic back, one, two, two, two, two, it's that slug on the back of a tortoise shell, winnin' a race

Chorus:

I feel like I don't even make rap music, I'm a poet (I'm a poet)
I said, I feel like I don't even make rap music, I'm a poet

Verse 1:

Bars float like Xans up in syrup
My basement a army surplus
Jacket powdered in purp dust
Vision blurred up, offa nursia
Hit the purp plug, customized Glock slides (What the fuck?)
So it look like a NERF gun
Liberty statue, 'bout to shank on her
The end is near enough to smell thе tank armor
Slice carpals (What else, man?)
Blood on whitе marble
Murder under the sun so the knife sparkles
Anthrax in overnight parcels
Gress? your team, the flight marshal
On the mic dark Hulk
Street sweeper a bizarre cult
My shit rare, I'm a narwhal

Interlude:

The Devil visit the dark angel at someplace else, right down below, the Devil is, foreign of Earth

Chorus:

Yeah, what, man, I said, I said, I don't even feel like I make rap music, I'm a poet (yeah, man), I'm a poet
I don't even feel like I make the rap music, I'm a poet (Right)

Verse 2:

Self-made, true spitter, doom sinner
Loop wizard, trip room sitter
Tie in soup, loop winser, sippin' moon bitters
Stick sizzards through gizzards, shroom roots grew inward
I feel like I don't even make rap music, I'm a poet
Panspermic galaxies on my whole dick (Hahahaha)