Trial of the Golden Witch - ROTTEN lyrics

Digibro: I chase release, sixteen bottles deep In some weak sh**, my peak sh** dried out Always night out when I look I'm still too lazy to cook Nowhere else open at night So I stay after that light Wawa subs, takin' that bite Cigarettes gettin' that light Ate again, drivin there twice I don't like none of they food f** am I s'posed'ta do? No one else awake here so I stay jackin' my dude Gettin' in fights online Wastin' my f**ing time Tryin ta f** with this wine but now my tolerance is too high Rhymes becoming off-time Wrapping thoughts up in tight little rice balls to eat up and spit out At people who pa** by my house on the sidewalk You balk at my face, mother f**er, I'm carving your eyes out You don't know who you're dealing with, I'm a man with his mind out of Control -- don't know what I'm prone to do at this hour My skin has gone sour and bruised I'm rotten through Endless Jess: Come to on the floor In a pile of trash and piss sh** stained drawers I'm a hot mess hoarder, the lord of disorder Calorie absorber, performer, a camcorder And I'm bored, another symptom to record In the pit, the only hole I fit anymore Until I stick more who*es With my thick pork sword I got ticks on my dick getting sick and engorged I used to dream of how I'd be when I was grown Picture me with a 6 pack, not the kind that foams Now I live alone, never shower, I live in squalor Blocking out the sun so I never know the day or hour And my teeth all yellow, gums receding Gingivitis, cut myself eating now I'm bleeding While I'm beating up the mic And I'll take another bite Of the burger that I dropped in the trash last night Digibro: Fast food on my mothaf**in' breath Wine spilled on my mothaf**in' chest I'm drunker than my rhymes are good My wordplay's bored, I torn between asinine and scorned I'm fine from four till dawn But wronged from six PM to one I'm no fun and no body cares what I've become Or how I've run so far from the sun My body is f**ing falling apart Fat and gross and weird and f**ed up My beard looks like a rapist My shape is amorphous I don't know what I enjoy There must be, please, I hope, a point to all this Somewhere along the line when looking at the time Stopped meaning anything my mental state became in constant flux I've got six thousand bucks and don't know what I want to own I'm grown, I'm grown, I'm grown, I'm grown, I'm grown