| Even if there’s not a problem I would probably overthink it
|
| Til' there is, is, is, is
|
| Alright when it gets night
|
| But when it’s bright I see this life for just what it is, is, is, is
|
| Feeling like my body light enough to lift up, sighting’s heighten
|
| Then I turn back into mist
|
| Tectonics under pressure, hands holding onto weapons
|
| Yelling, «do away with the men»
|
| Skeletons dropping like Geronimo
|
| See we just animals
|
| But dialect can’t justify what is critical
|
| It goes beyond words
|
| I’m out and onwards
|
| Above the young herds
|
| Their screams I overheard
|
| Even if there’s not a problem I would probably overthink it
|
| Til' there is, is, is, is
|
| Alright when it gets night
|
| But when it’s bright I see this life for just what it is, is, is, is
|
| Feeling like my body light enough to lift up, sighting’s heighten
|
| Then I turn back into mist
|
| Tectonics under pressure, hands holding onto weapons
|
| Yelling, «do away with the men» (yo)
|
| They be wondering where I be at (yo)
|
| Boy, I’m somewhere that you’ll never get (yo)
|
| They be wondering where I be at (yo)
|
| Boy, I’m somewhere that you’ll never get |