- 9th
- June
- 2011
shitt,
mind blowin out the top like strippers at pole time,
diarrhea of the mouth is your ass facetime,
or wait, is it the other way around?
trippin, my words straight fruit on the ground,
bananas. you is bananas.
thinking you is the shit, fakeass grammar.
man, talks cheap, take from me, a fuckin slumpass kid from the burbs str8 blowin’ trees.
tree hugger in the fact that these trees, make me, see green, freely, should be.
green. straight up the nostrils, make me nauseous, live how now is.
color’s scent make me feel shit like its living,
head in the clouds, sippin’ rain in an instant.
thirsty thirst, cloudy cotton on my tongue,
heart is the sun, fireflame, make me feel numb.
never comin’ down, never comin’ down,
real talk man, never comin’ down.
