Narcolepsy (The Cosby Effect)

[Intro: Sample]
“Kill me! I’m here! Do it!”

[Verse 1: Coal Cash]
When I speak it, y’all should treat it like the emperor’s edict
Comedic because they like to sleep on me like a Tempur-Pedic
Bulimic flood from bowls of blood on a punchline
Your rhymes ain’t eating shit, fit for anorexic lunch time
You’re cunt slime, you remind me of vaginal flow
A hoe on a rag, a douchebag with no actual hole
I’ll toe-tag your swag persona then stab your mama
Tomahawk your thoughts, turn part of your corpse to a badge of honor
I’m mad beyond the genre’s genius, a monster’s fiendish
Supremely fit to fuck your bitch ‘cause she wants the penis
The meanest shit spit this side of galactic space
Syntactic tactics shape the Atlas of synaptic scapes
Creating blackness, I’m an ocean flowing frozen wind
Been rape theatrics, you don’t want it when I’m going in
The golden spin, a stuck-up asshole like a gloating win
You’ve been in capsules stuck up asshole like a Roman Jim
Deep in the fractal state of mind, supernatural design
I’m winding off the axle to unravel the shackles of time
Divine gavel, I travel at the speed of thought
Teleport through cosmic seas but never have to leave New York
I’ll feed your corpse to these moss-covered acres
Capers occur, but nothing’s hungrier than Mother Nature
Another labor to savor, I am the bed-provider
Surprise—you’re dead! I was bred to take the head from hydras
Getting liver than a Walking Dead survivor
Driving a Tiger tank over your flanks, I am the rank-divider
I’ll drive a shank through your memory bank until it shrank
Your sensory ‘til you’re mentally blank
Length of entropy vs. Planck’s constant, drank contents
Of quantum chemistry, kinetic sea of conscious
A complex energy, my entity’s a frequency that is
Free to plead prophetically, but heavily they sleep on me

[Hook: Coal Cash]
The culture’s starving, fans lament without attempt to feed it
Needed to rest, slept on the best like a Tempur-Pedic
Content to leave it, they don’t need it and they never will
Skills at counting sheep when they sleep on me like Benadryl
My pen is ill and it will instill a truth in all
Walls are oral form like Chloroform built from Rohypnol
My proof is all in the pudding, I guess it’s still a hobby
Probably not fulfilled, the game is popping pills with Bill Cosby

[Verse 2: Coal Cash]
I write the dopest with a mass appeal that’s isotopic
The psychotropic flash-forward through the psychic focus
The mic explosive, corrosive from a nitric dosage
We boasted might, causing fright when I write ferocious
The Gnosis plight was smite for the flight of Icarus
I’m sick of this life, so ignite with a strife ubiquitous
I’m sick with this mic, a liquidous type of strike compatible
Radical when I write plus I’m faster than light’s collateral
A magical splice with a concise calculation
In relation to the voucher of Alpha-Amalgamation
Algorithmic equation in computation of my data mine
Designed for abjuration of compilations that you had in mind
Cadavers line my trail blazed like Wild Western railways
I wage to raise sails in gust of gale, hoping to hail praise
Only engage to fail, so drive a nail through my open palms
Beyond the world of flesh, so I welcome death with open arms
Nothing to see here, keep it moving, no attention needed
Believing my pen is filled with Benadryl, my skills are Tempur-Pedic
Your sense anemic to the blood loss on these bars
Fell hard from your bed, smacked your head only to see stars
Retard your aura if you swore you saw a purer form
Perform it frequently but y’all sleep on me like Chloroform
Euphoria swarm people’s cerebral, waiting for truth to call
Housed all in the booth, further proof that we’re Rohypnol

[Hook: Coal Cash]
The culture’s starving, fans lament without attempt to feed it
Needed to rest, slept on the best like a Tempur-Pedic
Content to leave it, they don’t need it and they never will
Skills at counting sheep when they sleep on me like Benadryl
My pen is ill and it will instill a truth in all
Walls are oral form like Chloroform built from Rohypnol
My proof is all in the pudding, I guess it’s still a hobby
Probably not fulfilled, the game is popping pills with Bill Cosby