Field Guide

Intro:

- Bitch, you lookin' goddamn fool, bitch, you lookin' mothafuckin' fool so shut the fuck up, okay?
- You call that you still not (?), listen, you want to be me, you want to be me, hehehe!
- Bitch, you look a goddamn fool, you goddamn fool, bitch, you lookin' goddamn fool though

Verse:

Yeah, all songs a suspect
There's an active serial killer in the burrows of NY, they lookin' at the wrong suspect (Hi)
Rappers tired of my face like their baby moms was exposed a back page
Suckin' Glocks in a snuff tape that's clickbait
Choke rappers with the old ribbon of my first demo
Bi-pen flow, I'm forced to be at your door like a registered pеdo (What's good, bro?)
The priced off book is way off
Art school rejеcts becomin' better dictators, look at Adolf
Cook on days off, pushin' great moss
I be leanin', like the king of the world on a wooden frame cross
King Caesar huffin' Mount Fuji smoke
Demolish studios, with somethin' light as a Lucy throne (Huh?)
Chomp whole shroom, not a bit
Chop blocks on dotted strips
Data East, Don Dada on doctor scripts
Doctrine's rips, stomp whole litters of doxine piss (Oh!)
Dropped the mix in a chum bag like cart fee
Peroxide spitter with hard bleach, harshly
Eight drug abbreviated letters that fell from a Mar-key (Woah!)

Interlude:

- Well, maybe I don't look the part, ahh, I'm not savvy, I don't understand what's goin' on, Newt, I don't get along with people!
- Hahaha!

Verse 2:

Ayo, fingertips bloody typin' some Pulp in the apartment, scared peeper
Cut so my youth from droppin' the parchment squares
You may guard in real life (What?)
I write real life info, some ordinaire (Ordinaire)
That's the part that had my father scared
Good son, I'll kill you, dog, you can't even fuck with me!
If you ill too, I don't know what type pills you on (What are you on, bro?)
An enigma the skill too on, chill, you wrong
I'll drop a EP then hit the Purple Hills with the mildew gone
Whole eighth of stash, mine molded, seafood
Chop bricks in half blindfolded, drop sacred math
I'm glowin'