Hook: Throw the match
We don't ever look back at the ash
Blood stains in my teeth
As I laugh
Walking through the fire whiskey
In my flask
My brother
Throw the match
My brother
Throw the match

[Verse 1]: Milk's gone bad
Travel a lot
Mail piles up
And the apples will rot
The fickle wanna ask
If we can battle or not
I say unravel the knot
And a rattle will pop
Walk down the block
With a handful of rocks
Looking at Goliath
Like he cattle to prod
The sky is the limit
They can't handle the fog
If our van break down
We bringin' camels & dogs
Giddy up Divvy up all of the rations
Irrational
Passion in casual
Fashion
You travel with snakes
Samuel Jackson
Actors with accents no actual rappin
The other day I threw
My ring in the ocean
& thanked god that I wrapped
It up in a Trojan
Heroes never look back at explosions
So we keep goin'
& never trust no one
Hook: Throw the match
We don't ever look back at the ash
Blood stains in my teeth
As I laugh
Walking through the fire
Whiskey in my flask
My brother
Throw the match
My brother
Throw the match

Verse 2 [Ft. P.O.S]:
I been burnt
Lit it
Hold it too long
Forget it
I ain't learnt
This whole shit's a mess
But fuck it I'm with it
All my years
All my fears
Have come true
But nothing has killed me
Who are you?
LOL
At your face
Shit yeah
Come get me
My whole crew is made
Of monsters
We driven
How you been livin?
I stay riding
With some hell bent
On doing
We keep shit moving
Ain't no use
Unless we cruise
With a view
That is truly
Worth looking at
Murder every sycophant
Serve the servants Ipecac
I'm barf incarnate
Hit alarms and
Carve a part to flee
I been starving just to eat you
My only purpose is free
Yeah
Barking up like every single tree
Wrong or right
If I die tonight
Just know I'm doing it
Extra in the Afterlife
Hook: Throw the match
We don't ever look back at the ash
Blood stains in my teeth
As I laugh
Walking through the fire whiskey
In my flask
My brother
Throw the match
My brother
Throw the match

Verse 3:
So much flavors
Like the mic of a dive bar
Throw the match
Follow through
With the side arm
Get money
Fuck critics
Make you a pie chart
Ain't gonna be a bitch
In record label side cars
No way no sir
Not a dodo
Fuck a pose
X-rays as the promo
Good to know
Drunk in a row boat
Need to find god
Still can't from my phone though
Direct in from my heart
To an XLR
Drop a flow
Leave the bar
With the smell of tar
Bed of stars in the sky
Yeah we set apart
Never put the fame
& the women
Ahead of art
Cut ties
Burn it down
Like it's Fort Mac
Rep Alberta
& the people
Who support that
All in with a bluff
And a short stack
Hoping that it doubles
Next time we report back