Money, money, money's all I fucking need. I be smoking dollar bills, fuck your dirty ass weed. Riding in the backseat of the GT with your girl driving, listening to Reverend Al Green. Underneath a small tree, that’s where I'll be plotting on how to get this green like algae. Old school like Now 3, I’m so rare I’m glad you found me, but get from round me. 'Cause I’m isolated and life is fated for the chosen few who like to be hated. My rhymes hit better when they're insufflated, straight to the dome like a respirator. All the rest are faded while I shine in the sunlight. Stephen cant walk right. Stephen cant run right. Fuck one mic, I'm on the internal and chopping up tracks like a ninja turtle. Swag eternal; I’ll live for eons and eons and eons, iced like Freon. I look like Zenon: Girl of the 21st century. I got big chains like a penitentiary. Who sent for me? And what for? Morphine in the flesh, who gets as raw as me? From slimey sea to shit river, young midwife I deliver. Coyote Shivers getting sugar high, I jumped off a cliff but I couldn’t fly. "Touch The Wings Of An Angel/Black", I created world peace then changed it back, cause I like to see you fight for what you believe in, even if it causes grieving. Widespread death's really in this fall. Do you know how many cameras are in this wall? Watching as we breathe, actually, I don’t wanna feel nothing when I’m in this dream. When I’m in this scheme living holographic, rolling high when I'm stalled in traffic. It's all Jurassic when I smoke In the park like Afroman and I’m sipping a colt. There's a lot of B.S. in my occipital lobe. I'm trying to clear that shit, ain't trying to hear that shit, I mean see that shit. Asking why it gotta be like this? But I get no answer, I swear it's severe as cancer. It's no rhythm; all is forgiven. There's a difference between surviving and just living, and what it is I ain't gonna tell you, but that right there is some advice I could sell you.

Mutilated Mojave 3 records melting in the heat. Have you heard about me? Read a sermon about me on a mount? Settled the case for a disclosed amount and that’s free, that’s me! Always trying to grab a ton. I don’t need a body, I just happen to inhabit one. Gravitate to the darker matter and certainly not what others thought should matter, though I’m often flattered by the lack of respect. In my back and my neck is a whole lot of pain that siphons down to my stomach like rain, filling me with disdain for reasons I can no longer ascertain. I’m plastered, man, literally on a wall. Billie Joe Armstrong, wake me up next fall just in time for classes, I can find my glasses and get my ass in shape but my fashion’s late (as in lame by a couple of seasons). I came in the function looking like treason, but they gave me a pass like Halls. No I ain’t coughing, I’m laughing at all of ya'll. And if you can’t do good, do well. Don’t believe heaven’s much different from Hell. When you see that sound and hear that smell, after that it won’t be hard to tell. Complacency is a delicacy like celibacy or patience, so if you have a life you might as well waste it with courageous rages against a faceless dictator or dick-taker or some skinny skater with a fifth and a mixtape that he or she just misplaced by the food court entrance. This is no time for sincere repentance. Repetition is a form of change, huh? Repetition will destroy your brain, bruh, and that’s real so do what you feel and if you don’t feel shit then I envy you. Remember "ten and two" when you’re behind the wheel or maybe "nine and three" to have time to heal. Every day at 3:06, I really do this shit, by that I mean I intuit it. Opulent garbage, cop to the charges, sop up the aftermath and go harder. I’m like a case that won’t get pardoned, cracking a six pack, I don’t even mix tracks. Writ large but I been distinguished. You’re a small brown lizard like Gingrinch. Me, I’m the Savage Dragon, who came through 'agging and toenail tagging. Straight with the magnum, I'm magnanimous, blow a lot of cannabis, looking like a psychoanalyst. 'Cause it’s all in the mind. Want to know my secrets? It's all in the rhymes. All in the spine of the book unprinted. Unprecedented, I get it like Clinton, which is to say I'm in it for the percs. Setting like a sun over this green universe.

Step up in the club like I could never die. Underneath the lights like I won’t ever die. Be all in the cut where the bass turned up with your girl by my side like I will never die. Untouchable, un-fuck-with-able, stacked with the skills that are non-refillable. No R-X, everything far-fetched, heavy like barbells, dead lift, long stretch. Touching toes like a goddamn shakedown. I feel like a scene kid waiting for a breakdown. Nothing seems great now, or mysterious. Ten bucks a month for my junts like Sirius. Step up in the club like I could never die. Underneath the lights like I won’t ever die. Oozing in the cut feeling quite turned up, slow moves with my eyes like I will never die. Pray to false idols, swag suicidal, nothing on my dick cause my focus is vital. Every time I spit is like a opera recital; the room goes quiet: 4’33. I’m a young John Cage or Powerman, maybe. I look so sexy, I look like Sadie. Every single person on this earth’s crazy compared to each other- shouts to my brother. Step up in the club like I could never die. Underneath the lights like I won’t ever die. Laying in the cut with the spliff burned up, still paranoid vibes like I already died.