| Yea bitch, I’ll bump your shit, when I’m laid out and candlelit
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| Can’t handle it? |
| Disarm 'em then harm 'em, I dismantle it
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| Got 'em like it’s a new life for me
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| I’m ready to start over, dosing, can’t fight the notion
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| Of your frozen memory, PTSD, your thoughts are too deep
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| You can’t sleep, smoking on that fucking piss weed
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| Get with it, Philip Dick shit, the wickedest
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| Can’t make it? |
| don’t fake it, bitch watch it, before I break it
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| (You got a) Tendency to dependency
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| You blind fool, better ease up on the Hennessy, or else
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| (They're all gonna laugh at you) But don’t feel iffy bout the spliffy because
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| (They're all gonna laugh at you) I’m buzzed
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| So talk to the bomb, teach it phenomenology, even though
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| (They're all gonna laugh at you)
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| Fuck 'em, let that prophet speak the prophecy, it’s too deep for ya’ll
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| Your house built of straw, my drawl make walls fall, bitch
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| Smoke so much weed when I leave they gotta fumigate
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| Ruminating over what the Buttress illuminating
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| To hate ya' is just human nature, I’ll waste ya'
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| Exit the matrix, ya' fake bitch, you know you betrayed us
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| Can’t hide, it’s the Buttress, the toughest, spit the roughest poems
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| As my dome speak, why you staring in disbelief?
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| Your art’s weak, Buttress make you cry and leave critique
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| Bitch I’m messing with your abstract expression
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| Don’t speak, learn a lesson, rule number 1: Don’t sleep
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| Or never again peep the sun, trust me ya' doubting Thomas
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| It’s gonna be real trippy I promise
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| Don’t have a bitch fit, jump on my witch stick
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| My rap game mad infective
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| Because I seek perspective like a fucking detective |