Operation

[Verse 1: Truett]
Scheming at the bottom
Made a small fire blunt
And alright
Took these street [colts?], now walk in this line
I hate dime wasting
Eyes dilated
Swear to god I'mma die famous
Boxed out, now they only speak in sign language
Let's play a game, a lyrical operation
Fangs in if you down for the Count
Plant a seed in these speakers, watch a motherfucker bounce
From a dub to a motherfucking ounce
To a high to a quat
To a motherfucking pound
Deep in these waters, swimmers hear all my shit
Can't hear when you spit
Not a motherfucking sound comes out
I know you're bitchin', calm down
Switch your position around
I'm looking up when I'm down
You are below me
Homies choking to death
Bones broken so I been low-key
A different blunt weed
Floating and then I spit in your stream
Suck at proceeds
If he thought himself could ghost me
I'm high as [?]
I got [wasp?] in my peyote
OT on me
I think this shit's grotesque
I see little competition like a violent protest
The limelight take a second
Watch as the time pass, light the grass
But it's always gonna be greener over there
If you feeling unprepared
Or running from your head
It only hurts if you let it so move that shit to the past

[Verse 2: Lionel]
Yeah
I can take over the world
That'd be too damn easy
Instead I kill em with the stand, drumlines keep bleeding
And if I take over my pores
They be warned that they might not make it
And if they not where we at
That's okay, they can underestimate us
Making quick moves, real hesitations
Sip elixirs to see through the Matrix
I see in rhymes I go blind to new flavors
And my eyes are glued to my watch, fuck the haters
I got no time for that shit
Got no time to waste time
I grind high on acid
Write til' my hands bleed
Words my relaxing
An action I take will be off with the map (Get it!)