Run it up!
Niggas should've already been arranged for all of that sucker punch
America eats it's kids than makes room for all of a second lunch
The SP the enchiridion to that Litch's clutch
Pray to Lord Quas my feet wont fail me now
I ain't running ay but I'm limping a bunch
Fitting into society like Biggavelli harmonies
This is outsider R&B composed for people that's like Bartleby
Lemon pepper with mild sauce can cure all your anxieties
Hard mode is synonymous with living with all of your propriety
Can't tell if your truth is really blinding
or if it's dark from all the lying
Either way it's hard to find much worth salvaging
Whole system rigged, the monopoly turned counterfeit
I was on the outer ridge stacking morphemes like they was some Tetris'
I guess I should've stepped
I guess I shouldn't have dreamt
Now i'm Thanos searching for gems in the infinite
This hippocampus one big ass pit
hardcore cage match between me, my ego and my sense of it
This is anxiety rappers (this is, this is anxiety raps)
This is anxiety rappers (this is, this is anxiety raps)
I can't trust shit
I feel like Legion with the fucking full clip
Life be lacking sense
Niggas got took before they could repent
We never fold, we fucking bent (x2)