[Intro: Your Old Droog]
Pfft, check, check, yeah (yeah), yeah (no), maybe?
Check it out, yo
[Verse 1: Your Old Droog]
Know the ashy life so well
Still take them little lotions 'fo I check out of hotels
Crib filled with empty pizza boxes and lawn chairs
But every time I think that I'm in trouble my work bubbles like Moncler's
Dudes wearin' Canada goose and can't even get into Canada (Damn shame)
Real talk, I'm not a fan of the delusions of grandeur music that's too glandular
A manager who's lookin' for someone to take advantage of (Sucka)
How I was more productive doin' nothin' (Word?)
And tell them amateurs to go get in construction, roofin', somethin' (Janitor)
Need to afford the hell pack, go sell crack
You been wack since Von Dutch, trucker hats, keep it a stack (f*cker)
Y'all only good for boofin' drugs in your ass cracks (Facts)
Like a saxophone store, get down to brass tax
Something my ghost writer wrote
I just transpose what I hear from spirits to lyrics, but on a lighter note
[Verse 2: Lil Ugly Mane]
I juggle diagnosis, catatonic magic potions, static hopeless
Manic out of focus, knocked around by nauseous oceans
Put the emphasis on endlessness, behold the prince of emptiness
Stand without a crown on
Just a mask of squirming rats that gnaw his skin and bloody fat
Drainage of his solitude that pools beneath his crooked feet
Nothing but the bones and meat, cold and barely moving
Below the ice of frozen streams, consumed by his atrocious greed
Stench of all his failures is his vile rotting potpourri
No one ever noticed me, none of you as low as me
Tremble up the stairs and then collapse until hypnosis leaves
Show you what I'm supposed to be, show you who you supposed to see
Writhing in possession, my delusion, my obsession
An idle hand that masturbate confusion with suggestions
Listens to your voice a million times and never hear it
I'm alone in my abandon and I'm slowly disappearin'
The Ugly Mane, the king of all that's empty
Poppin' off them things 'til they empty
Buyin' out the bar 'til the last bottle empty
Opps try to hide but we gon' see 'em out eventually (skrrt)
Skrrtin' in their Bimmers and their Bentleys
You got all that money but you still feeling empty
Had the sixty-bag, now they empty
Opps try to hide but we gon' see you out eventually (eventually)
[Verse 3: Wiki]
(Uhh, look)
Rollin' the potent, know the motive's to go in the moment
Grab it, throw it against the ground, own it
Upside down frown, hold it
Bucks bulgin' sl*t's closin', who the f*ck chose him? (Hmm)
Must be the luck of the much chosen
I'm glowin' up at my pulpit
Who the culprit of the bullsh*t I've been hearing?
Roast him
Thought you was close to him?
Try and toast him, like you got some sh*t you owe to him
But I ain't sayin' no to 'em (Nope)
Keep it goin', got a lot of sh*t to speak, unspoken
Like how it's 2019, fiends still be dopin'
And they teens, what? No one told 'em?
They ain't see? And now I'm suppose to say that's the way it be? (Nah)
Kids tryin' to pray, but it's prey they be
I live day to day so patiently
I sit and I wait at my station for my train at three
I was trained to be this way painstakingly
But every day I gotta hurl, it's plain to see
I don't know if this world was made for me
Trying to get paid, get my sons a bacon, egg, and cheese
And lay, up in the crib with my B, I
I be with a blunt hoe with a CI
Reclined in a plush bed with a behind
Oiled up, and to get head I push rewind, again, and again
Til the beat wind down to the end