(Still lysergic) yeah, cyclothymic king (filled with death) cyclic king (filled with evil)

Yo
I'll layer the class out
Call me ?? ball the class clown
I'm at the spot maxed out
Give me a budget, you could do a lot with a crack ounce
You could do a lot with roofies at a cat house
Rifkin pick-up, tennis shorts, bloody fingertips smudged by the beach resorts
I'm trailing the sixth one
Stop the hiccups, my eyes lit up
48 hours I've been up
Using truck stops to dump off pin-ups
My crib nuts, voodoo alters and rib cuts
My arousal levels during strangulation is compared to a cliff jump
After doing a stick up, degrout humans one handed faster than fish guts
Dripping baby spit up
Acidics licked up, I'm a sick duck
Trying to swim in an oil slick stick muck
I fixed up laying on my back now I can't even sit up
Rubber band arms holding the high with fists clutched
Cadavers of hitchhikers, crystallizing their nostrils from mixed cut
Inner thighs bit up
Go back to the dumpsites before the sex drive gets kicked up
I've been numb
I can strangle a waitress on a day off and go and get lunch

(Hey Jak I love your music man, you got some acid for me? I heard you like to trip balls.)

Yo chief pass the hash pipe
Yeah my shit is trash right
I'm garbage like a cheerleader dumped in the junk
Stuffed and gutted with both hands tied
This Syd Barrett got me mad hype
I don't set churches on fire, my fans try
I'm that scumbag a label can't sign
Pathetic wasting of mad time
But a real writer can't die
I guarantee I off myself before anybody by a fucking landslide
Off the block I push the van
We got a lot of kush on hand
You get popped chopped and put in bags
Dropped out operative entrance
Where's the poshed ones
I'll pull out a chakra through her clam
In social settings I'm awkward as an octopus on land
Fuck a road check
I pump the trees to soak wet
During sessions I'm shaking
Smoked out like flag burning protests