[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