| We was coming from the shadowy regions
|
| A slight light with the well-born pride
|
| The threshold of immediate consequences
|
| Revealing tonight was the night
|
| I knew who I was when I was seven
|
| No reverence for the reverent
|
| All this pomp and circumstance
|
| The fakeness is ridiculous, the pump will make them dance
|
| Styling with your new girl
|
| Fishwrap and champagne
|
| Blacks clad in all white
|
| Backstage on Front street
|
| Well-known nobodies
|
| A murder mouth with no bodies
|
| Self-loathing narcissist
|
| Body-sized icons
|
| Cast in a false light
|
| Soldiers of fortune
|
| Spawned in the future
|
| Self-made selfie stars
|
| (Lest he grows to nothing)
|
| Abolishing tomorrow (Dynamite)
|
| On the wrong side of pimp bitch
|
| Style-less stylists
|
| Bloodless heart groans
|
| Deep fried deep bliss
|
| Heel hell holy hunks
|
| Soulless soul singer
|
| Mindless, dreamless
|
| Every field success stories
|
| Star in thrillers about boredom
|
| Two thumb tap tricks
|
| Make it rain on a scorched phone
|
| Ku Klux slave hags
|
| Kneel to the plastic gods
|
| Collateral damaged hearts
|
| Killed by a drunk drum
|
| On a sweet deal, sic' em
|
| Speeding down the long way
|
| Pillow talk undergivers
|
| Selfie stick samurais
|
| Self-made follownaires
|
| So how much you don’t care?
|
| Every move’s a masturbate
|
| Watch the D boy diva out
|
| Trapped in a free market
|
| These are the times
|
| Wrecking the world
|
| Was the best days of our lives
|
| Illuminati thoughts trying to scratch my mind’s screen
|
| This the type of glitch happens just our times
|
| All the feds request for my audience
|
| 'Cause I’m at the behest of my master’s voice
|
| Rhythm, groove, melody, crescendo, loop
|
| room for air by an ancient truce
|
| Gino feel the clip, can you snatch me up?
|
| Holy water sips out the plastic cups
|
| Rubies in my mind is a bright motif
|
| Lighted up in lime Paradise Sportif
|
| Everything I spoke served to crack their code
|
| So bury me alive back in Dookie gold |