Lights, camera, actions, flashes, the caption reads forever I am a cla**ic, Kentucky Bourbon a flask of old Grandad, gla** after gla** will put your head in the trashcan, well this takes two to tango this the last dance, my vintage nouveau a la Kubrik and Van Sant, grandslam, the youngin' went yard on em, told Grandma that I'd change the game before this all started, now my art is Van Goet and I charm starlets, I'm on target living in this harsh Gotham, they laughed at em when he hit the hard bottom, now I'm cleaning out the mall all of you'll Paul Blartin', I'm a young Ginsberg removed from the acid and shrooms but I still howl when I pa** by the moon, an instrument of change I guess I had to be tuned, feel that soul pounding groove that I'm tapping in to
Starving got me back on the hustle, like I'm selling CDs out the bag by the bundle, see I understand but most cats got it jumbled, cause you're only the man until the fan doesn't want you, so I did it myself raised a gwop on my start up, no one believed I saw dark days and hard luck, the sky's the limit it seems a little far but, either I'm high or success got me breathing in star dust, monster quarter man three quarter amazing, Silver Spring rocker Mo County known native, they prescribed me Xanax but Doc I won't take it, even though my city's hot and ever cops faking, I'm hopping a plane, disdain for flying the coop, but in my city no one see's that I'm a pariah of truth, the flower child I'm an exceptional artist, they say I'm somebody to love just like Jefferson Starship, I beg your pardon, I'm sorry I caught the fumes, I know Jay but the hit out to murder the autotune, plus my flow ain't been the same since after the chronic 2, and so every track I drop be hitting like sonic boom