im from the south pumpkin ima park my ass in view
mark your shoes with assumption and buff out these bars in two's
kinky il diecast his hues and call it candy paint
yall stinky candles faint fuck your pew il hand you change
sand your sandals like your win has started loosing weight
no roman nose no t for exis when i bring pain
send a can/vas to his ghost and get a friend request
no guess guest we aint holden hands just bending chest
bent i bet this cat aint seen dope unless he was spun
take the lid off this turd, stick him with a fork - his done
bet your bunk bed i'l break his birdy by the sand lot
im bonkers busting to stand off with this herbie hand cock
one two check one yall still listening aite il set it off
his a ticking time bomb, a walking cliche' of flesh that rots
best i stop like theres his report card back Aye thought its lost
short of cost, like its a mad max simile but got a smiley in one shot
his dumb founded shocked, but even thats a stretch true
you can tell even pass his expression only ism went through
so we made it this far bein lines are bars still crunching
a great depression for the sixe made for consumption
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