T-Ross - Temporary Insanity lyrics

Intro: What's there to talk and talk and talk about? What's there to talk and talk and talk about? Hook: I know you ain't no good I know your ways are bad I'd quit you if I could But without you I'm going mad (2x) First Verse: Yo, my tongue on the percussion, interrupting your discussion f** the repercussions. We're just easing, dusting off Rip that piff up in a dutch and cough. Get the lift up and I'm f**ing off It's the tree I'm puffing; sh**, I just can't get enough of it Can't f**ing quit. I'm stuck with it. I Must admit I love the sh** In the past I've been depressed, Fast inhaling cigarettes Quit without the Nicorette. I had business within to stress And yet I keep coming back. Will I need it til my lungs are black? When will I have enough of that? Running, bussing up and back Headed from here to Leavitt and Pierce for that old tobacco any weather or year Then I go, like I'm joking and sh**, “I don't toke cigarettes. I Just smoke in a spliff.” I throw in the piff, rolled with a twist till I'm smoking a spliff every quarter to six One sec, I'm the man and the next without it, can't handle the stress Panicked to d**h. Dismantled, perplexed: damaged and wrecked: Frantic and vexed. I landed stranded like I planned it Can't can it. I'm an addict. (“Hey. Have a hit”) Alright, Damn it Hook Second Verse: A pattern of planned abuse. Steady. Ready? Can't stop me man, a loop occurred The matter of hand: elusive Yeti headies got me in a stupor, blurred Yet I'm lofty. Not even coffee can stop the oddly feeling glossy choppy copy A lot of pot tossed with broccoli got me awfully sloppy. Got Tree? Too much weed to eat is costly. Got lost (got lost, got lost) with cool cats A terrible place; at an unbearable pace. Some unprepared for the race. If you knew that You could be too lax or moved back, with Imminent dissonant intellect in effect Been a wreck in the net single images implement infinite synergy indirect Nemesis generous head it is lecherous treacherous effortless method is decadence Exit the precipice. Venomous pleasurous. Beckoning, yes. The record's Irreverent And I'm Higher. Smoking the Shire, watching The Hobbit. Thoughts of the Loch Ness Pot is the topic. It's not a narcotic. Hot as a tropic. Got a lot of: a lot of Hypnotiq For Night crawling it's all dusk. My rhyme's abstracting like Pollock's Might feel like Gollum. I'm hollow high followed by low like hydraulics While I'm seeking peace. I'm reaching. See, my fears, leaving them by the bayou Breathing easy when need be, yet, the weed is my fuel Hook