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ChristKid​(​!​!​) (prod. BluntedBeatz)

by Tread

/

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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Tread Powell River, British Columbia

Cosmic poetry in infinite motion until we realize there is no end, after which he keeps on rhyming
--**--ethereal
oddball
rap--**--

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