| Take me down to the water
|
| Drop me down and pull me up
|
| Wash away all my sin
|
| But don’t eat those fish when they float to the top
|
| Take me down to the water
|
| Drop me down and pull me up
|
| Wash away all my sin
|
| But don’t eat those fish when they float to the top
|
| Me and Dakota rockin' the real, it’s hard to make Danny chill
|
| He thinkin' 'bout it, if he not goin' off at the grill
|
| Why is a right-handed homer to right the opposite field?
|
| When I’m out of the studio, the monotony builds
|
| But is a busy melon really necessary for skills?
|
| I’m syllabically OCD
|
| Like Belichick choosin' a new QB
|
| Not the coolest cutter at camp, but damn if he’s not a cool breed
|
| Gotta brag a little bit, apologies
|
| I’m sorry, guys, at times I get starry-eyed
|
| 1981 space invader, Atari-eyed
|
| Kaleidoscope showed up in my MRI
|
| And Chuck Bukowski told me to not even try
|
| I get the feelin' his heart was black as bein' born blind
|
| I’m more inclined to optimism, love is underdog in this, but
|
| Okay, lifespan critique rap, somebody market this
|
| Red carpet any jackass, and let him know about his wack-ass ways
|
| Until the end of his days
|
| They will remember the worst verse, the drugs and the curse words
|
| Effortlessly, ignorant, take zero to to cokes
|
| Rammin' skis up your nostrils, hittin' the slopes
|
| It’s goin' down like the Concord clippin' the top of the oaks
|
| Now that I got you locked in to my provocative flow
|
| I’m rippin' this gift like a greedy kid at Christmas, I be throwin' them bows
|
| Take me down to the water
|
| Drop me down and pull me up
|
| Wash away all my sin
|
| But don’t eat those fish when they float to the top
|
| Take me down to the water
|
| Drop me down and pull me up
|
| Wash away all my sin
|
| But don’t eat those fish when they float to the top
|
| Yeah, I spit it slick, cold enough to freeze grease
|
| Geez Louise, he’s the Texas Pete on a three piece
|
| Biscuit box with tater logs and sweet tea
|
| For five buckaroos with AC in the summer heat
|
| Don’t call me sir, I work for a livin'
|
| Like a jerk, unforgiven, but my purpose is still intact
|
| I wonder what it is, Kowalski in Vanishing Point
|
| But I’m still in the game, Andy Dufresne
|
| I’ve crawled through the crap, wash me off in the rain
|
| They tossed my name in the ring
|
| I’m not aimin' to became a king of the most prominent
|
| Diamond to get, vomit obvious, ominous common sense
|
| Most droppin' this prophet to ever profit off of it, not
|
| Not— not— not— not— not— not— not— not— not—
|
| Take me down to the water
|
| Drop me down and pull me up
|
| Wash away all my sin
|
| But don’t eat those fish when they float to the top
|
| Take me down to the water
|
| Drop me down and pull me up
|
| Wash away all my sin
|
| But don’t eat those fish when they float to the top |