Mutt

Intro:

Yeah, last of the last, we arrive the Summer like this

Verse 1:

Yo, my head spinnin' while the planet paused
I rap for those mad at all, or not mad at all
I hit a screen from down in manic halls
My eyes wider than a man at war
Off the edge of the jettison I catapult
Man-made machines aimin' weather at our wrongs
We either pull backward, back out our guns
And I might fight to engrain the back out from
Look at the lost generations that pack-out slums
No burial when kings died
No gimmicks, I'm Madonna springin' lines, ring sight
Flying Ziggurat king size, grey alien Sphinx size
Shit on the game, give it pink eye
Track so heavy you gotta powerlift it
Powder this shit
I'll slit your throat facin' you, I'm not a coward with it
I'll let the blood spray me, and shower in it (ahh), and gain your powers with it
Everyone said they ever check me on the mic was counterfeitin'
Gimme all your under counter scripts in, pounds of bricks in
Mounds of piff in, fluid ounce of Syd hits

Interlude:

- What's the matter with you?! Stupid, we're all very different people, we're not what to see, we're not spardons!
- We're underdog!
- We're mutts! There's no animal, that's more faithful, that's more loyal, more lovable, than the mutt

Verse 2:

Yeah, this somethin' like kid's casket (What?)
My cultist riddance be pent up, with the fridge magnet
Lift trash lid, throw your album in, let the piss splash it
Wig tappin' sound like a mig passin'
Curse you like Troutman
Wrote this book next to a brook, fried trout skin (Yeah)
Shock value, what about it?
I stuck the knife in a socket 'cause my pops said "find an outlet"
The fun about to stop like one thousand cops
Trying to write dark enough to force sundowns to stop
I rather build up from the ground to top
I'm not label whoring around, just for an album drop
Butcher blocks get dark, choppin' carcasses
Burn you out the top apartment in Watts, stocked an arsonist
I'mma stop barkin', is off the part of the wig there, creative department
Ah man, fuck it