Parks

This is not a hip-hop dry spell, it's a damn drought
When I said "three" everybody put their hands out
They getting cut like drugs
I road the roller-coaster in hell it felt just like love
Im startin to sound just like Slug
I just might quit, life sucks shit
Mikey gets paid to like it
If it’s a bitch then shes a dumb blonde white chick
With lipstick on her crack pipe
Blood on my ice-pick
Spit on the windscreen, Jim Beam on the windshield
Sellin' kids a dream, I'm a big deal in Pittsfield
So if you see me at mass it won't be catholic
I'm sick of all these wack little local rap clichés
Chase rabbits like a tab verse, don’t quote me
And Facebook is full of mad nerds tryna poke me
And I don’t have fans just a bunch of junkie stalkers
Who think my life is all high times and Johnnie Walker

But I've been lost for 6 months so for surfin'
If I can't leave earth then I'll at least roam the surface
And watch the sunrise hitch hiking with migrant workers
And visa-versa, I'm still tryna find the purpose
The early bird gets a dirty worm its hardly worth it
I be the hardest working pervert on the party circuit
Today started perfect
Cloudy with a chance of percocets
Toilets full of cigarettes a bourbon nervous reck

Slow down son ya killen em…
Im given them the low down
Cause Biggie woulda been 36 years old now…
And this a kids game, good thing I've been paid
Spit flames at Bill Gates and Warren Buffets bridge game
I'm all in, balls deep, whatever you wan't to call it
Y'all sheep, stallin' get back to the mall quick
One nation under “God” so I root for the underdog
Be careful for what you wish for
The story of the monkey’s paw
Clark Kent confessional; change clothes in the casket
It’s heavy with everybody else’s eggs in my basket
Fuck saving the planet, every effort is last ditch
I'm passed it, we should just cash in and crash it
It sounds drastic, but I think we should try it…
I'm actually the messiah, I'm just keeping it quiet
To watch the world die and hit the streets like a riot
There’s drugs in the cows, and too much beef in our diet
Leave some logic I'm tryna eat from this rhyme shit
Burnt my words on plastic so people could buy it
The white-house been skeemin' with skynet
To put a chip in our brains and cut off our eyelids
And put us all in a prison and call it an island
They call it criminals I call it surviving
Kamikaze pilot in the war on Christmas
This year my lump of coal might turn into diamonds…

There's a gift for the verse and I'm touched with it
I rap so good people say they love to see me do other shit

The gift in the curse and I'm stuck with it
And I don't know what's worse, this or that, I don't fuck with it

Gift for the verse and I'm touched with it
I rap so good people say they love to see me do other shit

The gift in the curse and I'm stuck with it
And I don't know what's worse, this or that
I don't fuck with it