Lyrics Cabin Fever - Seth Sentry

Cabin Fever

Seth Sentry
Super Cool Tree House: Episode Eight
Hmm
Now do I think there’s anybody better?
Gee, I doubt it (Nope)
I do this every week and there ain’t nothing weak about it (Yeah)
She told me you should whisper something sweet before you hit it
You need to shave your bush 'cause I ain’t tryna beat around it—I don’t know
women
I check the mic like a prostate, no
I stay frosty like a cupcake, no
Takin' rappers out like a lunch date, oh, for fucks sake
Sorry these are kinda lazy, I was up late
Nutcase, woke up in another fuckin' drug haze
Blood stains all around the place, fuckin' Mondays
I tried to squeeze the body in the boot of my Hyundai
But I don’t got the trunk space
Fuck, I knew I should’a upgraded from the hatchback
Now I’m standin' at the bus stop lookin' unphased
Duct-taped the body to a tree and gave it sunshades
Tryna hide behind a newspaper but my face is on the front page (Yeah)
Oh, you goin' off the deep end: shark bait
I’m layin' on the beach fuckin' weeded: sunbaked
Trust me, bro, I do this every weekend: Sunday
Seize the moment, send your girl a DM: carpe
Yeah, you are not us (Yeah)
You’re starin' at your phone like, «Can I get a buzz?»
()
You think it’s all connections and you ain’t got the plugs ()
But you don’t get reception 'cause you ain’t got the bars
That’s all it was, yeah, before the mood’s gone
You need to pack it all up, you need to move on
You wonder why I never comment on your new song
And send you little pictures of a fire when it’s lukewarm
Timer on the clock runnin' lower on the truth bomb
Bro, don’t get your wires crossed tryna cut the blue one
Shit, I cut the lights, shoot the fusebox, a million ways to die,
make you choose one
Choose your own ending, give you Goosebumps
Yeah, it’s sorta like the warning right before you die
So fortify your borders, I am cold as ice
The train line that I grew up on was a haunted ride
I’m crawlin' out your walls like I’m a homicidal poltergeist
Hmm, I don’t walk the line, I snort it
Then I cut you when you rub me up the wrong way like a porcupine
Tossin' razorblades inside your waterslide
And throwin' rollerblades and Razor scooters in your quarter pipe,
I told you I am
On the grind, so don’t go fuckin' with my balance meter
Man, you’ll be the saddest Joker since Jared Leto
Can you see the difference in category?
All you rappers need to flee the rap arena, be on your toes like a ballerina
Damn, it’s either homesick or it’s cabin fever
Either way, this shit is so filthy, I wish I had a cleaner
Watchin' Tarantino and readin' a porno magazine
I’m spillin' seed like Michael J. Fox at the fuckin' parrot feeder
Yeah, how long you gonna let me do this for?
Just take it on the chin until you can’t eat solid food no more?
But even when you’re pickin' out your soupe du jour
I boot the door and slam you throught he floor like I’m a luchador, super cool