Every look you get is cursory
You curtsy showing courtesy
No kernel of the truth inside your perjury
Perp with a perverted streak
Perfunctory slurpin’ on the bourbon
Learned the birds and bees
From an older girl with imperfect teeth
I prayed she wasn’t fertile with the fervor of a fever dream
Told her Dream Weaver was my leave it in the beaver theme
Evening, earthlings
Easy how I work the strings
Seasoned with the verses
Seeds to furnish up a nursery
Your raps sound like they’re from the label on some herbal tea
I murder beats
Chiefing on the purple leaf in Myrtle Beach
Flirting with disaster and your girl’s physique
Got her talking bout “nah, this weekend is my work retreat”
You’re the type to catch a Nerf ball nervously (seriously?)
Or holler “not guilty” in a Nuremberg jury seat
Step back, Curry feet
Checkered past, Burberry
Bow down, I’ll curb your teeth
Now you’re eating Gerber peas
Gurgling, Googling how to stop a burglary
Burn ya, leave ya laying in the lurch with Stephen Avery
I bet you like to say you weren’t responsible for slavery
And bitch about how your neighborhood’s become unsavory

All I know is try to keep this fire goin’
Fight against the dying of the light and likely diagnoses
Ride a motorbike into the fire hoses
Walking on a wire that ignite explosives

I’m only here for a minute
If you’re here you’re complicit
There’s some mirrors but it ain’t a funhouse here, is it?
We’re in for a weird visit
And it’s clear that I can’t teach you shit
That’s heuristic (look it up)
Clear mysticism only very momentary
Blame it on the hairy danks or childhood Frankenberry
Make it very simple for the masses? No
Either catch it or miss it if you’re listening slow
Always fidgeted
Snow always glistening
Cold up in Michigan
Holed up and wishing I could just do, what did I used to did?
I don’t even know, but this lockdown isn’t it
Sniffing out the finest smoke
You’re digging for my liner notes
I don’t gotta spend my time telling you that I’m the GOAT
Hip to every quote that Dick Gregory wrote
You’re only quoting That 70s Show
I’m in your head where bad memories go
You try to focus but the aperture’s closing on your amateur flows
I got my ducks in a row
I throw the whole damn bucket of you crabs in a roll
You might could dampen my glow
It’s just the splash before I hammer your dome

All I know is try to keep this fire goin’
Fight against the dying of the light and likely diagnoses
Ride a motorbike into the fire hoses
Walking on a wire that ignite explosives