Soot

Socrates knew, knew it Wallabee smooth, bear skin Never ever gonna wear thin, no Egg whites, mixed with the gin Angostura bitters for the win Citrus twist for the aromatics And I'm gonna take another breath like it was only but a Matter of the habit whether that would be the last one Come again and straining to remember what it felt like Way back in the day when we were ripping it up, mad young Nowadays the focus is another bag of fish but at the same time never ever coming illegitimate We stay up in the thick of it with figurative images We're sprinkling this shit with cinnamon Jet black, tell your moms that the mind is back Step back, pull these bangers from the wine rack Jet black, tell your moms that the mind is back Step back, prismatic colors from the wine rack No damn peaking up in the window Might just be seeing a legend allegedly puffin' the indo' Stuffing a bird with a chin-do, bitches name was bingo Just for info, nympho' gringo twist yo' limbs slow 'til yo' pretzel legs go let go They don't wanna dig it like a tunnel for the metro, f*ck that 2 to the floor, plus 2 makes 4 - Big Shaq Boot to the jaw, kick back Enjoy the shit, sip yak Embroider this, stitch cramp Hoist a fist if you're tired of the mediocre noisiness See me spill the beans clean in the groin with this I be the guillotine fiend with a giant list And when I scribble it a little bit of ink begins to dribble From the rim in to the middle of the page The piddle from the squid'll get all brittle  Like a fiddle in some drizzle And the shit'll be impossible to gauge Who to leave alive and who to kill up in the cypher When the microphone is mine to put vaginas in a cage When i'm finally invited to the palace to be knighted They're entirely delighted how I'm nice-ing up the stage, bust it People always wanna know the secret of the writing If I try to put it plain there'd be a line to the asylum for insane And discombobulated brains, got the diagnostic claim  Saying vital chronic pain, slain by rhyme-aholic Clearly on another level, I'm the final boss, bitch Put the pedal to the metal give you spinal off-rip I'm the devil with a shovel for your tiny coccyx Call me peddler of death, pick a shiny coffin Jet black, tell your moms that the mind is back Step back, pull these bangers from the wine rack Jet black, tell your moms that the mind is back Step back, prismatic colors from the wine rack So be it, all a matter of where you're looking at it from Past is a hum drum Son of a stun gun 300 WinMag Kept the weedy in my gym bag Kimchi and Bim Bim bap Taking this track back 'til the rim snap Spitting this shit it's a natural act And in fact it is evident that the Mind's back "Quit the bullshit, it's a stick up" No hiccups, unless it's from expensive liquor "Quit the bullshit, it's a stick up" Usual culprits cruising in a rusty pick up "Quit the bullshit, it's a stick up" Move quicker,  blue lights begin to flicker Jet black, tell your moms that the mind is back Step back, pull these bangers from the wine rack Jet black, tell your moms that the mind is back Step back, prismatic colors from the wine rack