Lucrative - Deep Forest Meal lyrics

[Intro] [Verse 1: Epic Laine] Camping out on a tuft of green Put cats through a gullotine I see through smokescreens Hit past the gut and leave So it happened, I chose to be More than I could ever be Chasing a lot more than my dreams That dank is all I need I'm tarzan to the streets I done left a paw print,and its hook, line and sinker Don't call me up for weigh-ins, homies want a way in I'm past that.. One take it like a lumber jack And I'm zoning out, to another realm Cause it gets cloudy where I'm in Tryna shape shift, till it disappears See if that grind will get you into a lear I ain't slept in days,does that suprise you? Might end up on a train track, facing the oncoming traffic, the game controls you Deem it a paper cut Yet wrists get slit in the dark I'm taking nobodies word, it don't take much for facades to surface Been poppin' like Memphis Grizzlies out to get me So I can't stay, I just imprint a stencil Have these kats for breakfast, might give up the lentils I'm stuck in a maze Gotta dodge a couple rednecks on my way Cause y'all tryna infiltrate my atelier Weekly roster says I shouldn't be back for another year They want my head on a platter right, I could feed em insight Where the murder mic? Where the murder mic? No one fights fair Moon steals its shine from the sun, yeah that's how I see it Lets take one for the road, bet you couldn't even stomach this That jalapeno, chile gordo, gets hazardous Young, smug and troublesome Smuggle me into the jungle scurry Call dibs on it, my team be hungry for the cheese Pa** me a nunchuck, let me fend off some beetles They tryna get in on the action, but they be fictitious On the prowl, no more starin' at the ceiling I'm done with these n***as Piranhas got more bite than them Ain't nobody get a kick out of that, unless they wifen em Match temperament.. swear I deserve a title man Obliterate what's in my way, I'm hyphening [Verse 2: Epic Laine] So it's Code red on the morse code I done seen more than I should see Step on quicksand, go down a couple feet No run-ins with the Apache, though we shelving tapestry L-signs prove to be a landmine Lose the hand me downs, they couldn't get you a dime Addicted to slain, I should probably do some time Now every photo shoot is more like mugshots Girls posing with the trigger finger on their skulls Never got used to it, I just scroll down En-route to success,damn a n***a should'a known More hate when flung cheques like a lazy chaperon Suddenly y'all run laps, but don't finish marathons Probably get dizzy just walking past Babylon How you gon' turn the tables son? Got Lwadz to do that Frikken turntable don Breaking records, like I'm flashing out on autobahns Get a whiff of this, box fresh croissants Big tings a gwan, I swear I'm the realest man [Outro]