I can't sleep, I can't keep away from the beat
It's like I'm 6 feet deep in the ground beneath my feet
Unless I'm hittin' the street, and puffin' on weed
Kickin' raps and schemes completin' lyrical dreams I mean
I'm getting f**ed off of blunt consumption
Bud combustion, yo, with no interruption
Self destruction motherf**er no it's not constructive
But f** it if I'm not at least a little productive
Above it, yo, below the radio clamor
I'm hammered, f** ya life of glamour
f** ya p's and ya q's but please excuse my manners
So ballin' you'd confuse me for Kevin Durant or
Ted Bundy cuz I k** microphones
I find them alone, k** it put its head in a box
Wrap the wire round a rock and drown it just down the block
Effectively chop, with no electrical shock
I k** a mic every day, and then I smoke on a blunt
And then I smoke more blunts, I never smoke just once
Writin' lyrical stunts, a hazy shuffle through tracks
Muffle the critics while I blaze and make stacks
That stays intact, I never blow all my dough
I just buy a bunch of dope like a couple of O's
Every so often, you scoffin', I just be coughin'
Then I sell the other half right back for a profit