Van Damme Piano, kick keys at the lamp post
Split each of the samples, rubber-band flow.
watch that mufucker burn up & bounce back
whats your life story mean without a soundtrack?
Im hot...tell me about the kettle & the black pot
imagine the scene with what settles in the backdrop.
someone tell me its curtains & Ill black out.
my keyboard was starting to hurt & blew its back out
got a nerd degree from down in the trap house
charged by the third degree, graduating class clown.
spend years chasing that paper to light my porch
got the earth in my palm as I try to find my source
putting paper on that magazine whenever I roll up..
& motherfuckers thinking Im talking bout a hold up...
so what....I send smoke swirling to the heavens brah
this is my Trump card word to what seven eleven was.
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.....laugh....and the world laughs with you
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