Hey yo I'm Pretty Boy Floyd
Burnin' mortgages
My stories is medicinal like orange is
Catch me in the woods with the foragers
Boomin' and scroomin', a stupid human, a poet of sorts
According to, uh, sordid reports
Throwin darts at the mental
No forgeries could ever hold a candle as a pencil
It's evidential
A reckoning is presently evidencing itself
In a crisis limbo
Each crisis rolling all into each other
Ouroboro-ian
The origin of nightmares, man, look

The Rio Grande just ran dry, we outta plankton
The U.S. government fuckin did that, mayne
They said, "thank them"
Death to America, bomb them, tank them
They orchestrate the death of the world
Unless we change it
How we gon' change them?
Might have to let a couple of them fuckin' thangs bang, man, I'm just sayin'
Don't blame me
It's logic speaking
Kool Abbasi
And Socretes-ian conversesians, heh
Cash rule everything, heh
Ya boy, lactose–no cream for him
Your man tragic, comic
The magical yellow-brick negro orchestra
Located up in the cerebral
Plus the solar plexus
Plus the aura chakra
Plus where your eye number three go
See
Ya know the ego is superego
All three though
Y'all know me though
Kool AD though
Go hard for the people, amigo
Yo