[Intro]
This is an S.O.S. from the second of thirteen. We have entered an unknown stage of emotional development with our subject brakence. There is now a green light beaming from his forehead. We may have made a mistake getting him that iced americano. He hasn't been listening to our orders and is grinning with devious determination. We believe he may be scheming to shoot the sun. We arеn't pleased, to say the lеast. Shooting the sun is the highest risk, highest reward move in the game of hearts. If he doesn't pull back his bow far enough, the arrow will fail to reach its target and begin falling back down to earth. It will then reach him at terminal velocity and he will be impaled right between the eyes, which is exactly from where our precious truth energy emanates. However, he is so blindly confident in his ability to accomplish this that it might just work. But in that case, we have a whole new problem on our hands. We are urgently asking listeners to immediately delete any links or references to caffei—

[Chorus]
How this shit ain't obvious to you? I'm not even twenty-one
My music be the snobbiest, somehow I'm still gon' get it done
And I ain't do this for the audience, hold me down, I already won
I know I'm dope as fuck, I guess I'm glowin'—