Count the hostiles, G! Confirm your doubt, that Goddess bleed
The blues you make-believe, slaughter, too frequent to read, so I bother
You, in the great perhaps! Plastic wasteland, written wrath
Jack the spaceship, just to crash! Something flammable
A flicker, we might rule away, I brick the fade-away
But hope to contemplate, "How we still here today?"
You spent, toking ether while I vent… Juxtaposition
Say subtle, I'm distant, still implosive, I deflect
No dosage, recollect? Or echo while we endless
Memories ahead of thee, fuck percocet or flame
The privilege I explain, yeah, privy to the blade
A second-hand strange, I exchange my constrain
A party with the pain, a fever-dream of saints
Set a series of the same deluded conception
Astral projection, I zooted, obsessive
With all these dimensions, expressing
Subjective depression, won't fail to read a room
No sail to see you soon, and that's some fucking truth
We'll fail to fiend, a fluke, compelled as we consume
While removed, I presume, you can't persuade with hues
Rather rude, it don't soothe, for a sec, I conclude
This a wreck, just a ruse and some, when
You might end up dead… Love in your dread
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh, you thought you done?
Ha, ha, ha!
Sike!
(Count the hostiles)
They been swimming in women with your apostles
Check your parcel for your tonsils
Just an ignorant vision, I'm in a pothole
With some charcoal, and I'm lighting it
'Cause I immolate the listens with the fossils
Written novels on the parchment!
Silly, imitating literary marvels
Broken bottles, to your garments
Or your armpits! I'mma watch the launching missile
'Cause I armed it, where the lawn split
It's a bomb, kid and I'd bet my bottom dollar
Y'all in tar pits, 'cause your carpets
Been abused to cover up all of your failures
From the jailers, y'all so garbage
You reduce, reuse, recycle, all my papers
Strip the layers, then hit the market
How you boosting all my juice like it's a favor?
And you're my savior? You ain't no prophet!
You a fluke, a bloody glitch up in the Matrix
Far too basic, milk chocolate
Milk chocolate, milk chocolate
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Bitch, I'm zooted
Where you gonna go when you know your wheel is booted?
The gas ain't gonna do it
Stupid! (Zoo-zoo-zoo-zoo)
Zooted
How you gonna treat me like a store good for the looting?
Salute, but I'll be shooting
Anything moving! (Zoo-zoo-zoo-zoo)
Zooted
How you gonna blow up all my DMs when you muted?
You already knew it
Choose to lose it 'cause you (Zoo-zoo-zoo-zoo)
Zooted
Boofed a couple grams, blew a grand on the putrid
The reasons still eluded
Or refuted when you
Zooted
How you gonna go when you know your wheel is booted?
The gas ain't gonna do it
Stupid! (Zoo-zoo-zoo-zoo)
Zooted
How you gonna treat me like a store good for the looting?
Salute, but I'll be shooting
Anything moving! (Zoo-zoo-zoo-zoo)
Zooted
How you gonna blow up all my DMs when you muted?
You already knew it
Choose to lose it 'cause you (Zoo-zoo-zoo-zoo)
Zooted
Boofed a couple grams, blew a grand on the putrid
The reasons still eluded
Or refuted when you
Zooted
you've got to love reflective, often claustrophobic, and cryptically heartfelt hiphop, especially when the artist does most of their own production The Thought
probably gonna be the best underground record of 2020, barring something truly phenomenal that I'm not anticipating. deep, dense, decadent. The Thought
