Bryce Gordon - Bran Muffins lyrics

[Intro: Spice Gold] You know, EVC Boys talking bout'-- It's real hip-hop! Real sh** We're a bunch of health-nuts Bran muffins... Early-morning jog... Pota**ium, Farmer's Markets [Verse 1: Joshua Tree] Aristocrat back Paving the way in the alleyways Your GQ covers on displays for the male gaze Not the gay-males but anyways Days on the ground with the coffee-stains Colombian free-trade f** Starbuck, I'm the first-mate Democratically paddle-boating out of Guantanamo Bay To heaven or hell I presume My destiny it'll make Nefarious is the ferry-man Carry him over the river The dead-souls Heavier than the living in two areas I do not believe in Getting tired And trying harder to breathe out of my Iron-Lung Paper-mache dipped in rust My accent is vapid Rapidly producing a buzz Vaporized puffs Puffing on clouds Browsing SoundCloud for us Golden-Holden-Caulfield state of mind With a little less whine Replaced with the attributes of the Based-Gods Mind But less 212 and more 505 But humans in New York might catch me at the wrong time So I practice my lines b**h Old Spicegold and tyrants we fly kids [Interlude: Stolzieren] Yo Eucalyptus we k**in' this sh** man ABQ ain't gonna be the same after this one man Damn bro Spicegold hit this sh** man [Verse 2: Spicegold] Flip-phone in the chest We back in business Flip this Spit domes Less than we have to spin sh** Crock-pot Chopped-up Push you off the hill Crock in the wallet Caught often with the krokodil Acid burns bones Much' as Spice burn tomes Burn mine Swinging ears Closet space to earn those Peyote in the pocket Milk plus Creamland Dreams can't seem that Easily E-Mailed Eucalyptus b**h you must hit this b**h you can't spit sh** Actin' like you ran somethin' Me and Josh Hughes spit sicker than bran-muffins Banished to the south And then the east is nothing And yuppies Route 6 Got my sh** together since eleven Eye-water Route sixty-sixty-sixty-sixty-seven Pull the hoodie strings so tight that just my eyes are showing Can't wait to go to hell if heaven's where Chris Kyle's Going [Verse 3: Spicegold & Joshua Tree] [Joshua Tree] Anxiousness Anxiety to coexist I'm a war-torn fist Appalled Flicking split-wrists Pissed-off Kissed-off Keep your kids in line with the rest Keep your clique in line Oh well, I'm so god-damn well dressed [Spicegold] I'm so goddamn hungry Damn yuppies finna' eat the rest Sunday sun is up f** around and be depressed Guantanamo bay-area Not a grey-area Waiting five-fifty I don't want, get, or need the rest [Joshua Tree] Equivalent to ambivalence I'm on the back-burner getting too many hits Giving too many sh**s for a shift in politics to matter [Spicegold] Ignorant barbiturates Spectin' like it's mixed-sh** Early April spillin' it sh**, I'd really rather [Joshua Tree] Considerably sus Busted up a bus-stop Might f** around Bike through the neighborhoods and try to get lost [Spicegold] Solidly sus Liquid give-a-sh** This loss Nobody better think that Eucalyptus out to get props