[Intro]
Ayy, ayy, ayy
I got it
Ayy, look

[Verse 1]
I'm dodgin' God when I see Him
My vision is not distorted
Nothing but death in His wake
I rather feel light than force it
This is real life unfortunately
I doze at a quarter to three
And rose at a quarter to five
Back up the poise in my mind
Pretendence is a habit
Pretend my woman doesn’t cry
Pretend I was a spastic
As grasping towards the sky
Pretension is a habit
These lyrics is immortalized
Dimensions built for crashing
And silence meant for coated eyes
And destroy just to build
And build to destroy
And rebuild post destruction
And coming from a vertical place
The horizontal pushes is nothing more than suffering
But I stride to align
As I'm battling time
I tell my mother "I'm finished"
I told my father "I'm fine"
Probably lied to them both
My silence is rare
My least favorite inhibition
My description of these mental images
Is too explicit
I promise myself
Not much
But happiness in a self
I could love my health
From a cellphone that buzz incessantly
My consciousness is riddled with arguments
They know bar for bar on this shit
I just question their authenticity
Essentially, that all that is meant to be
Don’t mean shit to me
The mystery, with a propensity for the bitter sweet
[?], my knee fill the ground
My breathing go soundless
My thinking is boundless
The process proceeds the prowess
[Refrain]
Ay, look, ay
I pull forty for my libation
Implore the reaper, I’m patient
I never rode bench, no offense, ayy
Ayy, look, I'm at a stalemate
A statemate I figured
My poise is my motivation
In quarterly calculated
And as I probe this rose in, ayy
Ayy, ayy, and this is failsafe
Failsafe, n***a
I pull forty for my libation
Implore the reaper, I’m patient
I never rode bench, no offense
I'm at a stalemate, a statemate, I figured
My poise is my motivation
In quarterly calculated
And as I probe this rose in

[Verse 2]
Uhh, yeah
And n***as is never doubting nothing
For justification, just [dial up?] the world
In doubt, substance
It’s all you missing
[Abulense?], n***as see, they thralls is hidden in cloth
Cause the women frivolous to say the least
I keep spitting until we feast
We continue to face the feat
But we tripping on our conceit
Less is more, more or less
And more mortals are nothing
And their immortals are less
I’m close to choking in stress, n***a