Mutated membranes, many milligrams of speed/ Coded palindromes, cold caches of conceit/ Calculated palpitations, of life fluid try to breathe/ Sit and count the leaves as the smoking makes me wheeze/ On a corner in the city, see the Vic's and Caprices/ Sponsor themed paint job, speakers is beating/ I mean I could never feel what ain't my fabric/ Hell what sum call rappin', I call static/ Feedback, but that ain't the point here/ It's bout reality and how it disjoint here/ Same pubs, same clubs, same lame ass drugs/ That we still take, cause this ain't us/ The same fucking women we seduce between the linen/ Then we frontin' to our friends, that we really pimpin'/ Nursin' up conflict, just out of boredom/ When they said dream big, I ain't think mortgage/ I ain't think kids that I can't see, but half my paycheck goes to support em/ But they ain't my life, but I got homies/ And if I had a wife, man she’d be lonely/
(Hook)
What it is, what it ain’t/
(Hook)
What it is, what it ain’t/
What it is, what it ain’t
Sometimes in my life I forget to give thanks
Spartanburg daybreaks and a jar fulla dank/
I’m just tryna cash out before they break my bank/
Making cents out sense, I’m lost but convinced/ Feel the cost of pretend as the sauce does me in/ Just like Grandpa, Just like Uncle/ In that landslide, exert my muscle/ I just standby, in my struggle/ In my denial, in my bubble/ Hell hath no fury like like a pint of regret/ I mean regret with a bottle and a quivering breath/ Liver on it’s last legs, limited steps/ Eyes piss yellow, but an image of death/ Seen your grand-kid, but don’t remember him yet/ Buried on his birthday, he might live with you yet/ Dwell in adolescence like I'll never grow up/ Negate responsibility with bars I throw up/ Hip-hop bastard, that's all is me/ Brim rose path never seemed too tempting/ I mean there's no doubt that I'm down for the cause/ But that's all pride and pride brings fall/ This shit don't pay homie, just ask Kross/ If bars meant bucks then he would define ball/ But that ain't reality, and that ain't relative/ That’s tryna shove righteous up against your skeletons/
Making cents out sense, I’m lost but convinced/ Feel the cost of pretend as the sauce does me in/ Just like Grandpa, Just like Uncle/ In that landslide, exert my muscle/ I just standby, in my struggle/ In my denial, in my bubble/ Hell hath no fury like like a pint of regret/ I mean regret with a bottle and a quivering breath/ Liver on it’s last legs, limited steps/ Eyes piss yellow, but an image of death/ Seen your grand-kid, but don’t remember him yet/ Buried on his birthday, he might live with you yet/ Dwell in adolescence like I'll never grow up/ Negate responsibility with bars I throw up/ Hip-hop bastard, that's all is me/ Brim rose path never seemed too tempting/ I mean there's no doubt that I'm down for the cause/ But that's all pride and pride brings fall/ This shit don't pay homie, just ask Kross/ If bars meant bucks then he would define ball/ But that ain't reality, and that ain't relative/ That’s tryna shove righteous up against your skeletons/
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