Bugs

Intro:

The more telepathic ability is exercised, the more valuable it becomes

Chorus x2:

You can sleep all day but you'll miss the show
To those who still trip in shows, peace to the sick and old
Shout outs to the ones, that drip the dose, shit's exposed
Cut out your bugs and de-chip the phones

Verse 1:

Watch the bad trip I shove down come out my face
Comb the sky with a razor, part Heaven's cloud-like drapes (Yeah)
I'm not from Sound Beach, I'm from Westchester County, nobody found mе
Heavy D's mom was the birth nun surround me (Rеst in Peace)
I'm so vain I probably think this song is about me
In high school I sold a little acid and look like Balky (Oh shit)
Disheveled writer on a laketown cabin (Yo)
Dosed orange spitters in my clown canyons (Hahaha)
Walkin' back from a Treeman the pound shaggin', crown satin
Work ethic a renowned passion
Bullet hole in your heart to sink a Rollie in
Olive branch slappin' felony in, stony grin
I'm smacked, to whack schools down my head like, Nickelodeon
Stuff 250 grams to a lock, low-key shit

Chorus x2:

You can sleep all day but you'll miss the show
To those who still trip in shows, peace to the sick and old
Shout outs to the ones, that drip the dose, shit's exposed
Cut out your bugs and de-chip the phones

Verse 2:

Yo, schemin' on clippin' these sick cops
Killin' these children like Chris Watts
The tree branch, in the air trippin' it's a witch mop (Hahahaha)
FDR got the map corners, grid locked
The kitchen lit, and the fridge stocked (Shit)
My fanbase more like terra cells
My lid squintin' like a lamp on me, I never tell
Fuck battles I shoulda had a lead name just started after me
Not a fortune teller but I overshine cars actery?
Fightin' the afterlife's arm slashed to me (What)
Every beat stored in a arms factory