Jonwayne - Asbestos lyrics

[Verse 1: Jonwayne] It's the Wayniac, part-time brainiac Part-time play me that beat right there And I'mma take it back To the magical rhymes for dollar signs Your homies sittin back at the lab creating enzymes Glad something came out of piles of dead mice It's the nicest who be carrying more than the virus It don't step or become one of my vices An example of why 25 to life is the price that you pay For a life in dismay I mic what I say, then I site what I play Since the days of a tike on a trike I light one every time I find a beat that I don't like And then I write to it in spite the bubblers and light bulbs It's my cup of tea when the team's overseein me, you feel me? My mob mentality instills me to write somebody's will But never I get to k** it lord willing I stay up in your mouth like a filling yall They're just broke in the back, like Jake Gyllenhall They can't carry that metaphysical weight And think that physical weight can see 'em into the wake Well that's great, but I ain't talkin' about murder This sh** is far worse, something you never heard'a Cause if you did, then you wouldn't be hearing me Just tearing on the floor screaming "oh god the tyranny!" I know insanity wasn't part of the plan But maybe then you can understand who I am, man And where I'm coming from The depths of the stem hem together So the eggs can't be coming out the chicken hens Cattle prodding, I'm high up on the saddle kid So pick the man that you wanna be doing battle with The wits of a mister never founded on his kisser It's straight up in the eyes cause he could be telling lies like a child do Throwing on a smile for you Never knew he wore it last week on the way to school But let me sit him down, now he looking like a Clown head shifting on the cloud, bled stricken with the round-house Kick, the thought of you is making me sick Call the doctor, I'm bed ridden spittin' this sh** Chewing on a thermometer man I'm hot up in this b**h Or is it I got you sweating underneath your fitted? I'm gifted, Santa Claus carries me for Christmas That is cause your b**h be putting me on the wish list Well you can check it, I'm here to clean the messes You're dealing with the bestest With no one to impress cause I'm spitting that asbestos That's why my genre mutates Sometimes I'm feeling big enough to have two fates You're too late for two-taking You try to see the sunny-side up brotha Laying next to two strips of bacon I'm flying higher than my boy if he high sky diving Rhyming on the way down over some dick climbing I stick spies even trade demises with some sick guys If they oblige the size of the opposition's side f** Dibiase's on the beat