| I ain’t waiting for nothing
|
| I just show up to shine
|
| That or don’t show at all
|
| Sit at home and unwind
|
| They continue they fronting
|
| They keep ignoring the signs
|
| Ain’t shit out there I’m hunting
|
| Everything in its time
|
| An it’s right now
|
| That bright black
|
| With a sharp tongue
|
| And the beats crack
|
| And he bites back
|
| With shark teeth
|
| And he eats that
|
| That black blocker
|
| That can’t stop when the coppers creep
|
| And I don’t show up I’m trash talk
|
| I’m fuck peace
|
| I’m Chris Dorner I’m Doberman dirty off leash
|
| I’m Mike Brown I’m Eric Garner I can’t breathe
|
| We face down
|
| Our teeth are touching the concrete
|
| They curb stomping us
|
| Wearing a crown in our streets
|
| It makes the
|
| Bullshit trivial
|
| Gave a lot of trust and some years to
|
| Some miserable-
|
| Castles made of sand
|
| Heavy hand holding shovels
|
| And trouble man
|
| Counts his real friends on his hook stomp
|
| Shit, I used to spend a lotta thought on loss
|
| I used to need for every feeling amplified too
|
| You prol’ly learned early it’s better to be hated
|
| And I hate whoever taught you that
|
| I’m happy to have learned from you
|
| Huh, same page different book (weird)
|
| Hard feelings
|
| Soft hearts overlooked
|
| But not here
|
| That whole veneer 20/20 clear
|
| Keep my warnings out your people’s ear try to let em steer
|
| For themselves
|
| Water and bridges
|
| Hurricanes and tryna rebuild visions
|
| Pick a pain I’m sure that I got limits
|
| But fuck it, I’ll make incisions
|
| Till I’m dead and re-risen as energy
|
| Tryna exist in superposition
|
| Tryna exist in superposition
|
| Tryna exist in superposition
|
| Clock tickin
|
| Keep livin
|
| Man listen
|
| Come on
|
| Show up to shine
|
| Show me a sign
|
| Show up to shine
|
| Show me a sign
|
| Show up to shine
|
| Show me a sign
|
| Show up to shine
|
| Show me a sign
|
| I tried to write a note to everyone who came out and supported when my kidney
|
| couldn’t clean up my poisonous blood
|
| But I just stared at the page
|
| And when I wrote it I felt nothing but the numbing of cliche and tasted nothing
|
| but batteries and iron all over my tongue
|
| Words rusted in place
|
| And all I want is to chisel my initials into something permanent now
|
| And raise up these damn kids and make my momma so fucking proud
|
| And mutilate a couple crowds
|
| (Dead)
|
| And all I want is to make art
|
| Keep takes
|
| Break what they say it is
|
| Fakes run the game
|
| And your boy ain’t playing it
|
| Nah, there ain’t no sense in this haze
|
| Uh, if it’s up to me
|
| I’ll keep the questions in my frequency and throw em often
|
| From now until the coffin calls 'em
|
| And I spit where ever cops be walking
|
| You’re supposed to be happy to be alive
|
| You’re supposed to be lucky to be alive
|
| You’re supposed to be
|
| If it’s up to me
|
| The only people in the streets with guns lead communities or hunt for food they
|
| need to fight through
|
| Maybe peacefully. |
| Shit, but that’s a big maybe
|
| There’s more than one way to skin Schrödinger's cat
|
| Not sure what’s holding you back
|
| There’s nothing seriously stopping us
|
| Getting blown off the map
|
| Yeah, tryna exist in-
|
| Predict coming events
|
| Visions make me dense
|
| So fuck your two cents
|
| Still a shoulder rub gent
|
| Colder with resent
|
| Fold for what it’s meant
|
| It’s over, my man
|
| Go eat a Xan'
|
| You gotta prove your position
|
| You got a new superstition
|
| I could’a never sold dope and hustled through your position
|
| Gimme all black weddings and an all white funeral
|
| Ball like pendulums and I write numerals
|
| Numbers on the boards of life and all mics shootable
|
| Even on your frozen nights when all thighs useable
|
| (future addiction)
|
| I’m not an MC
|
| What’s up, candy rappers
|
| White talkin' keys no houses but with backwards
|
| All these new OGs they got us moving backwards
|
| Whole race at our knees
|
| History in the crapper
|
| I want the food to taste like poison
|
| Till the poison tastes like food
|
| I want your home to feel like prison
|
| Till you up and hit the road
|
| I want your job to feel like torture
|
| Till you burn the building down
|
| I want to raise a fucking family out the ashes of this town
|
| I miss a quark
|
| And my dark parts wish I didn’t
|
| She called me buster and gutted me at the finish
|
| And then it ended-
|
| Only clean break ever and I love her more now prolly cause of that
|
| In the black |
| I miss a writer
|
| Who never quite took my edits
|
| I built a pedestal taller than she could let it
|
| And I love her more now cause of that
|
| Infinite slack
|
| I tied my own rope she took it back
|
| Instead
|
| In the red —
|
| Balancing books and
|
| Pre-cum promises
|
| When love is mean enough to go where it’s not wanted and
|
| Fuck up a good simple an sweet
|
| Bliss
|
| Campsite rules
|
| Hope it’s better when you leave
|
| Shit, I miss myself without these calluses
|
| Only hate two and call 'em dad so the irony can cut through
|
| I won’t be at either funeral
|
| I don’t need to see I disrespect them gleefully and eat the pain, rage and guilt
|
| I keep it deep in me
|
| Release my fist
|
| When my ashes hit the pacific and I’m infinitely swimming in the ether
|
| Where the teachers be-
|
| Waves
|
| Thumbs up
|
| Sunglasses emoji
|
| Peace
|
| Tryna exist in superposition
|
| Tryna exist in superposition
|
| Tryna exist in superposition
|
| Clocks ticking
|
| Keep living
|
| Man listen
|
| Come on
|
| Am I trapped inside my body like it’s a burning building
|
| Show up to shine
|
| Show me a sign
|
| Or am I the match that lit myself on fire
|
| Show up to shine
|
| Show me a sign
|
| (Like a snowflake in an avalanche)
|
| I been waiting for nothing
|
| This pain is nothing
|
| I be clutching my stomach
|
| But this, this here is nothing
|
| Scheming on what I wanted
|
| This pain is nothing
|
| This pain is pumping through my veins, it’s nothing
|
| Nothing is what I’ll take
|
| Everything in its time
|
| Yeah, nothing is what I’ll ask for
|
| Everything I will make
|
| Ready the fucking drums
|
| Get ready to feel it shake
|
| It’s better than being numb
|
| And better owning mistakes
|
| Jehu
|
| Yank crime on ten
|
| Scream super unison
|
| Superposition livin' a
|
| Dream like a hooligan
|
| Live like
|
| Dreams might be
|
| Like a real life
|
| See them react
|
| Try to, act how it feels right
|
| Then go
|
| Tryna exist in superposition (Go)
|
| Tryna exist in superposition (Go)
|
| Tryna exist in superposition (Go)
|
| Clocks ticking
|
| Keep living
|
| Man listen
|
| Come on
|
| Show up to shine
|
| Show me a sign
|
| Show up to shine
|
| Show me a sign
|
| Show up to shine
|
| Show me a sign
|
| Show up to shine
|
| Show me a sign |