[Verse 1] You can pop bottles with models in fancy bars I'll be reading Aristotle but moaning dancing with the stars When I close my eyes, I can visualise an echo Hip hip is a puppy mill that's sponsered by Petco store clerks The jerk's spamming twitter feeds with "Lets go." We should have a fireplace The type of space to meditate through the ugliest of dire straits For some reason my toenails grow too rapidly Reading Rumi and wishing that I knew myself actually Every morning I burn myself at the coffee machine Cause I'm pep talking a loser who's scared to follow his dreams I'm Jamie Foxx and this is Any Given Sunday With faulty d line[?] protecting my thoughts from their gunplay If I'm not broken and faulty Then I guess I'm a Vulcan who's balding So I grow my afro hairs long and wonder where my pieces of flair have gone [Verse 2] Crip wrote a song called The vent in my consciousness Expanded through a hole in my tent I feel like a troll in some sense Cause I'm monitoring this monitor like I'm patrolling a fence (yeah) And rap is just my foot post The type of pen pal to make a very good host When you come over on a cross-country visit I'm all too eager to dismiss Newtonian physics Why don't I live in a musty tree fort? I'm the raging bull with a very weak snort I just wanna buy a big chunk of land And climb fig trees until I'm a great hunk of a man We have no interest in reading very long biographies That you people write in third person so obvious