Heavy paces,
footsteps treading on the lively looking faces.
Face it,
don't take all that much to make the pain stiff.
Lace with,
all the things you didn't want to take, shit.
The long living solemnly swearing soldier of a marshal.
Some titles thrown together to make the man seem like he's hostile.
Lost soul,
looking for a dollar and a bar stool.
Super bowl is Sunday, fuck that nonsense I've got better things to do.
Yeah, better things to do.
Yeah, better things to do.
Fucking with these fuckers on the corner in the summer shine.
Might be spitting bars right now, but bars are with me all the time.
I've got some problems, yeah a few, and maybe when I got mine,
I'll manage them all, catagorized and tell myself I'm all fine.
Yeah, babe, I'm all fine.
Yeah, man I'm just fine.
Rocking with some animals inside my fucking mandible consider something tangible then lost that shit in someone's pool.
Take it all back, that bullshit slack,
these fucking rhymes, they ain't all that.
I'm worth so much more than this, this slow mo shit and got it's grit.
