The Sun is a Snitch! (feat. yuckgod HD)

Sue me, I'm exhausted Hunting for my joie de vivre, baby I lost it All my empathy switched I'm sounding like the patron saint of "ain't thatta bitch" Glazed over as a Krispy Kreme, empty control center Abruptly disrupting direction like goaltender Hey, I swear I'll be better You shoulda seen me last week in dirty sweats and a sweater Ah Man I'm wretched and blessed and stressing large Q loud as a fucking barge, but running outtada charge Overwhelmed and overcompensating with all of the vices To help alleviate that pain and stress where hella lice is... Just emerged from the depths Face is shielded with the bliss that comes from purging the stress ...And then that lasts for two seconds, I mean, my record's impressive I've gone like eight before acquiescing to pressure - oh yeah! Running our respective rat races All the youthful roundness dissipating from our faces Man, the sun is a snitch I'm waking up and looking like I spent the night in a ditch Ah - Someday I'll get the hang of shit Happiness is not a jewel for you to dangle, shit Happiness does not fit in rectangles, shit That's newfangled shit Checkin my fit out in the bathroom of sea tac Gardetto crumbs falling out the seems of my weed bag every TSA agent here's impatient and seems mad Salvations found in both a tea bag and a D-Pad Seem sad but really just feeling defeated, I planned For a panic attack flying coach high on Klonazipam Need to knock it up a milligram, no weed in the bush for me sadly means a pill in the hand This Aladdin remake on the plane got me thinking bout bumpin the discography of simple plan, what a nickle grab I know people that don't tip they servers wanting they nickels back What kinda shit is that? Anxie-ty on planes, and my feet gon ache But I'd do anything to have Imani be my bae Even if it means this death trap where I meet my make Lord knows that ya boi don't cheat unless he's chea-ting fate Y'all gone see the waves and then gon eat the wake from the droplets in the water that HD gon make Catch the kid writing some fire in aisle C Row 8 IF THE PLANE CRASH GET THIS VERSE BACK FROM THE C.I.A I lay my head down to antwan singing under the bridge The window seat showing my fears to all, the sun is a snitch