Bookoo Bread Co.

[Verse 1: scallops hotel]
I'm wearing Jazz musician socks
Padded shoulder blades on the corduroy blazer
Brush off dander, I don't pander to older ways
Basket case, strange male wit
Couldn't help but notice how his chain mail fit
It was all shines and gleaming
Noticed how his lazy eye show when his mind is scheming
That boy raps like there's no tomorrow
That boy raps like there's only black keys
That boy raps like Rivka Galchen
That boy raps like…
I two-step when there's a glitch in the matrix
Hambone through the fabric of space-time
My mind is not a radio broadcasting
Pull up the collar on my London Fog
Rap is all monologue
I can feel the edges of my whole world shrinking
I've been thinking about What is Called Thinking
If every copy is a meta-original then
Who will benefit from being truly original?
We've been more than patient
The anti-realist never considers motivation
I love rappers how shepherds love sheep for wool
It's easy for me to say this place isn't beautiful
I love rappers how shepherds love sheep for wool
It's easy for me to say this place isn't beautiful