1. |
I Can't Get High Enough
03:43
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My shit is high grade. I’m talkin’ medical quality.
I wake up in the morning and I make it my priority.
It doesn’t take long to feel the need,
these silly bitches bring me problems every day of the week.
I wanna shut down. I want some real strong drugs.
Wanna find a way to level out for my son.
Gotta keep on searching ‘til I find the right stuff.
No matter what I do I can’t get high enough.
I can’t get high enough to numb myself from everything that’s wrong.
Elon Musk should use his money to build a better bong.
Let’s get some super powered juice into my brain.
Launch me into space on a psycho-sonic plane.
I'll light the world and fire and laugh like Dr. Evil.
Mix your ashes with a bag of that sweet Sour Diesel.
Maybe I can chill out if I take another puff.
No matter what I do I can’t get high enough.
I got bitches bitchin' at me on the phone and over text.
Bitchin' that I’m busy and bitchin' for way more sex.
I need drugs to make me deaf to all the bitchin’.
Drugs that make my penis shoot ‘em straight into the kitchen.
Cook me up a little something to get me lit.
Call me with the good shit baby, then I’ll come and hit it.
I really need it too, this weeks been really rough.
No matter what I do I can’t get high enough.
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2. |
The Big Oh
04:03
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Melt into the beat, the grind so slow.
Burn a candle, keep the light so low.
Lock your heart to the rhythm and the tempo.
We’re counting down ‘til the clock hits zero.
Bleed truth into the mic when I cut my throat.
The sound is the only thing that keeps me afloat.
Search the keys up and down till I find the right note.
Scars fill the bars with every line I wrote.
The past staring back through the black of the shadows.
We see forever in the eyes of the photos.
So high, keep the vibe on mellow.
Dig deep, let the rest live shallow.
Ambiguous. I’ll leave a little room for innuendo.
I’m more Picasso than I am a Michelangelo.
Chip away, breaking through the braggadocio.
Post-Abstract late night virtuoso.
Come with me, you can be my Fortunado.
I got a cask of this nice Amontillado.
I know you'll like it, you’re a true aficionado.
Loud mouth, now you’re incommunicado.
Young boy struggles as I watch from the front row.
Mother gone, sad song, feel her echo.
Death blooms through the record on my stereo.
No win thick-skin armadillo.
Deco on the outside, but the inside feelin’ Nouveau.
I found the key, DMT opened the window.
Close your eyes and let your body feel the glow.
Dream, no sleep, lock eyes with the Pharaoh.
Needle drop, don’t stop ’til tomorrow.
Feel the need, plant a seed in my sorrow.
Watch it grow, as the masses move in slow-mo.
Dear god, put an end to this fiasco.
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