| I’m trying not to slip, been trying not to lose footing
|
| Loose land keeps that pressure on my kicks
|
| But when I fall I tend to land like a ton of bricks
|
| Stand like a man made of concrete and sediment
|
| Like fuck your skin, nobody needs it
|
| There’s bones, muscle and blood, what’s realer than fat and tendons?
|
| It’s raw, no soft tissue to draw your eyes to it
|
| So far flesh ain’t the truest at all, let’s rip into it
|
| We all sick of the missed shots
|
| Passed over like the last man picked, no team, so pissed off
|
| That’s not honesty, that’s just soft curves
|
| Got your world flipped, got you making mixtapes for girls
|
| And that’s the skin again, let’s blame the skin again
|
| Stretching itself so fluidly over these awkward ligaments
|
| And I didn’t shave today, I probably won’t tomorrow
|
| When it’s safe to say I’m never gonna shed these extra-
|
| Yeah, so
|
| Fuck it, back to the wall
|
| Crush it, laugh at 'em all
|
| Hush, let 'em try to find the beauty in your face
|
| Yeah, something more than a song
|
| Hating? |
| Aw come on
|
| Dust, let 'em try to find the beauty in the bass line
|
| Aw, but when the words don’t change
|
| We don’t sing with what will fade away
|
| Yeah, we do our own damn thing
|
| We don’t blink at what tomorrow might bring at all
|
| Aw, but when the words don’t change
|
| We don’t sing with what will fade away
|
| Yeah, we do our own damn thing
|
| We don’t blink at what tomorrow might bring at all
|
| In us we trust, no rush for bucks
|
| No sweat, just enough, them words from love
|
| No hits, I let the track stand
|
| Like how it was written is how it hit me
|
| Or road cycle kids with the grip to skid fixies
|
| A rogue wild kid with a stroll that let it roll like whatever
|
| Huh… they kick that gingivitis, them rappers got the 'itis
|
| Catch me bumping Isis in a crisis
|
| Instead of watching y’all count and lead sheep at the same time
|
| What’s the science of that?
|
| I know that (Shh) is sweet, but where the movement is at?
|
| We in that coma capital, spotless home team
|
| With hands steadily purexed but never quite clean
|
| Bloody as hell, rarely will I care for that…
|
| I don’t know man… me and Joe like real shit
|
| Fuck it, back to the wall
|
| Crush it, laugh at 'em all
|
| Hush, let 'em try to find the beauty in your face
|
| Yeah, something more than a song
|
| Hating? |
| Aw come on
|
| Dust, let 'em try to find the beauty in the bass line
|
| Aw, but when the words don’t change
|
| We don’t sing with what will fade away
|
| Yeah, we do our own damn thing
|
| We don’t blink at what tomorrow might bring at all
|
| Fuck it, back to the wall
|
| Crush it, laugh at 'em all
|
| Hush, let 'em try to find the beauty in your face
|
| Yeah, something more than a song
|
| Hating? |
| Aw come on
|
| Dust, let 'em try to find the beauty in the bass line
|
| Aw, but when the words don’t change
|
| We don’t sing with what will fade away
|
| Yeah, we do our own damn thing
|
| We don’t blink at what tomorrow might bring at all
|
| At all. |
| Ta-dah! |
| Dah! |