[Intro: Benjamin Earl Turner]
Let's...get out of here

[Verse 1: Saba]
I had a dream about a mountain and a unicorn
Put it in a manifesto like the Unibomb
Sign my papers Saba as a pseudonym
Impregnating the present and you the mom
Maternity with eternity
Got life popped off like a kernel be
[?] is just a summer me
And bodies wrapped up like summaries
Pen bleep bap, proper funeral attire
Uniform going ghost like [?]
[?] all my n***as were divided
And blinded like incisions in eyelids
They off the loud, I get high off the silence
Food for thought, I feast, y'all diet
And then die young
But I say "you are the future," like psychics
Got your back like sidekicks when I spit
Therefore remember me like titans
Cause I'm a typhoon, you a typo
Backspace with a tight flow
With my brother like Lionel
With a light 'fro, bring light like Bibles
I spread word like the Christians
But mine ain't religious
Still healing, hear me though, hear the flow
It's good for the heart like Cheerio
That shit milky if you don't know
World on my shoulder, got me feeling like Bono
Used to hit the Bone flow, conjure up some new shit
Whips on our back with the city on the crucifix
Dog n***as move units like Whoo Kid
Dog n***as move units, I kid you not like you miscarry
And they married to the candle like Mrs. Kerry
No mystery, we all know, y'all know
5-0 tryna spot n***as like Waldo
Harpo, come through like we royal
Come through like we royal, aluminum foil
Aluminum foil in the mouth to show he ain't got no fillings
And he just fell in love, and she ain't catch no feelings
Fuck is that, bucket boys, bucket hat, like it's cuffing, but in fact
[Conversation: Saba and (Benjamin Earl Turner)]
That's the part where I don't remember that shit, but that was the cadence of it, "bucket that, bucket that, bucket back, like it's but to be, but in fact..."
('Bout to be rough as...bout to be rough right? yeah cause I..., whatever...yeah )

[Verse 2: Benjamin Earl Turner]
A California king that's not to be slept on
Best writer, I'm alive but write ghost songs
Posthumous concoction
Classic Casablanca
Cosmic conscience
Catastrophic consequences, condom wrappers
Condom wrappers, raw though
Look me in the eyes see a star in the brown glow
Listen to me rap, this the sound of a light show
Don't slow unless [?] says "Hold up"
Go with your gut or gut getting holed up
Worst pains heartburn or a brain-freeze
Not literally, more literary
I'm a small library into my world
Quiet down learn something, earn something
I heard some shepherd that'll heal lepers lecture
Real rap feel that texture
Take breaths cause I'm human, I'm sick of consuming
Critics takes shots and I tell them keep zooming
Brewing them coffee
I'm black I'm pursuing the queen of my life
And if you jeopardize you gon' look in the eyes of the rookie
[?] and got blade for a tongue
On a slice til you cut like a [?]
Low self esteem
Knew I was goat 'fore I knew I was sheep
Knew I was lion 'fore I could speak
Knew I was, I am, therefore I will be
I knew I never really needed man's accolades
Christ pat me on the back, that's God's praise
Yo god prays, me so prophet
The corporation and conglomerate tryna get their hands on the [?]
Ain't it obvious?
[?] mountains and the sea
Speak a n***a up, a n***a might cease to be
Speak a human up, a human might sprout wings
Curse a corporation, [?]
Tryna offer me a [?] just to speak victory
Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Heathen, Jew, Buddhu [?] upbringing
[?]
Only prove me right, like reading
Spending my nights with my nose in the folds of the Satanic verses
Pop curses, like mollies
Sweat blessings, when my tongue run
I take a [?] son give him operas
Now I'm right here, phantom of the Oscar
Spit that high octane spirit flame, el duende
F. Garcia, Laura could split his soul, horcrux
And a realigned chakra
Mom said I better lead like Chaka
Pop said kick rhyme to the blind, take shots as you go
She a sports buff so I just equate it all to soccer uh
[Outro: Benjamin Earl Turner]
I don't know. I don't know. That shit was fucked up, but it's- it's super raw. It's like, but this, but this is Yell Pretty. This is what it means bruh, to like embrace your life with whatever. Whatever it is, you know what I mean? Like, I don't got perfect anything for nobody. You know? I don't got perfect songs all the time. I don't got perfect cadences. I don't got perfect answers. I don't got perfect behavior for nobody. So, I mean, It'd be nice. It would be nice, like, um you know, but i don't know, it's it's it's it's art man. This shit art, right? Yell pretty