On my esoteric shit
I must admit
Faux lass, poll's pass permit the cat's shit
I'm sick of being packed full of your fits
6 feet down with rotten monks and van splits
I'm riding solo, rager mage, lone sly, nice with the dolo
Free beats, that's a no-no
Pay up, I take CC, no
She right, she right. I'm in a glass ball fishing tonight, tonight.
She right, she right. I'm in a glass ball fishing tonight, tonight.
And what's my future?
A little crass, but no hag can bag the butcher.
Wit's afloat and sky high like booker
Noid and trip, I call that a twofer
Say goodbye to Cam
Phony fell off when he cut off his hand
But what's with the grin?
Your time's running out
"Can I get another ten?"
Nah
She right, she right. I'm in a glass ball fishing tonight, tonight.
She right, she right. I'm in a glass