the type to point when it’s aimless
long face thousand yard stare through the anguish
patience wore thin hearing the debates it’s
laymen’s terms ‘cause they didn’t speak the language
nameless king of lame duck season
speaking of leaving
they was waving white flags through the training
I came to stand adjacent to iconoclastic
views and spew up shit til we find a commonplace
i’ve been hungry. the shit i’ll do for rent money.
don’t even get it misconstrued i did my friends ugly.
beloved with two feet up on your love seat.
funny cause existence unlucky
it must be or must be
certainly something the fuck wrong with me
kid said he sick of being melanin deficient
jumping on your couch like ellen paid a visit
nah i meant oprah
still had two feet down on your sofa
mostly though i’m known to house shit
breakfast in bed with mimosas
i’m lounging. solitude doesn’t seem so troubling.
drink if i gotta keep grief out the utterance.
double down on bias plus brief in the subtleties
hand over fist break bread for the sustenance
s.o.s. perfected cry wolf method
wise up for the second that the winter will be ushered in
they took my soul and my name
told em break a leg you’ll never walk the same
the way i’m married to the game…
We teamed up with our NYC homies Backwoodz Studioz, Reservoir Sound, Uncommon and Smoker's Cough to bring you the dopest of NYC's underground on the same album. WATKK