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young once ,
I Feel Like A Million Windows ,
maybe if I were offended ,
whatever thAt means (freestyle ft. Forest French in opening commentary) ,
Can't Wait 4 The 80's To Be Over Again ,
E X - N I H I L O ,
i rap my thoughts ,
freestyle jams, January 2017 ,
and 10 more .
, and , .
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lyrics
christ, kid, can'tchya put a lid on it?
We aiming down the ventilation shaft,
it's a hypocritical hit, and now the Death Star's
explodin, I'm foldin my hand til my habit is golden
I'm so hot that I'm molten, keep the windshield low tinge
pretendin that I'm growin when all I do is theorize in the
low end, tryin to keep my tribe in check so we can quest
together, instead of this neolibertarian rugged individual
lickin off the plate what the richest left residual,
now all y'all take it literal, rappin's like a ritual,
with or without any cadence in my syllables,
cus I'm a genius of the lyrical, or perhaps I'm negligently
criminal, doin' all these shitty drugs tryin' to keep the
damage minimal,
maybe it's just a bad habit and I'm pitiful,
justify it complicated with my capacities as an intellectual,
say to they face 'I am physical and digital,'
I can loop yo head with what's political, it's habitual,
but I surrender unconditional, there's no way I'm pretendin
to be cynical, I know I got somethin' so remixed it's
original, maybe when I die I'll be a legend, all rap mythical
they'll say, "now that's the precedent, he the pinnacle"
I just be lyin on the ground k-holin with weird visuals,
all explicit statements are subliminal, my existence all
inverted so my body be invisible, my statements make you
pivot, oh, what'd he say? some statement bout a deity,
it's pivotal, it's a paradigm shift, I can't listen to his
shit, he's a false swami, about as real as a shopping list
goin home, continental drift, I teach a man to fish,
in this age of immediate, we all impatient till remediate
but naw, life's teachin ain't so lenient,
you gonna need some more ingredients.
there's some poison in the kids words, as if he were the Great Satan
but he ain't no Great Satan, he's a soft as satin, just another obtuse statement in fashion,
I've run out of cheques to keep on cashin'.
credits
released March 19, 2015
beat stolen (w/ credit) from prolific beat-artist, "BluntedBeatz." Instrumental: "Drop Your Guard."
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