[Verse 1: Jonwayne]
Yeah you know that I'm a boss in this scene
Shaking heads up like washing machines
Coming closer to the toast, call it bossa nova, rocking regimes
Most of those about as hop, copping pockets of jeans
First rockets with the greens, unlock it with the seas
Seeing sockets plop stocks slop and pops go obscene
What do these wham bam thank you mam ramifications mean
For the stations of teams bringing hate in
The mean for the good boys eating all their greens and
Masturbating teams showing seams in their slatings
So what the fiends making, cause these Bathing Apes shaking
Boldly cold fashion gets moldy when it's old
And trends go from the new thing to remember when it sold
Forget about the inner outer soul, man
It's been about the old man, take on his toll and
Reuniting the titans of all the rock and roll bands
It's cold, man

[Verse 2: Zeroh]
Play possum
The trend age dewind, shatter to clear across the chasm
I patrol the bottom
The flatlands of lost and jealous, well-read spells hellish
When I curse inverted verse got 'em tripping in a church
On the corner, next door a liquor store
I go to bless the blunt, blow incinerated matter so aesthetically
I revel in its thusness poetically
Bust this phonetically incongruous song often to bond us
Spew molecules about the outer shout, they want it louder
Outch to bounce outweighed the ounce and now it's sour
I renounce the power to punk in good nature
Fuck what you thunk, truncater, great space is my major
Embrace the spherical swing like lightsaber to Vader
Bring balance to the high wire acrobats who waver
Shake the faker til he breaks false face traitor
Talents favor the flavor of grace so save prayer for later
[Verse 3: Jonwayne]
My blood's to a boil consisting of a mix of Crown Royal and oil
Seeing double like trouble and toil
Wayne's here to leave varmint's undergarments soiled
And steal whatever girl, cleverer than the man she foiled
Brandy, spoiled in the rambling banshee
That's me but at this point I can't seek pee, speak or see
Can't see me behind Vietnamese trees
I'm Charlie to the mic checkers, you know my sector is
The space that the crowd spectates in the vector
So meet the hecklers
Or see my man Zeroh, he can jump you like checkers
The next to be perplexed is the crowd
Aroused by my browsing, renowned by my housing
Hounding by some clouds when I'm drowsing
Off, got emcees coughing in the cloth, losing fingers
Looking like a three-toed sloth, who's the weaker
Peer, stare behind boozing singers
To appeal to the pool in the master plan's beaker

[Verse 4: Zeroh]
This malicious minimalist mistook your book for limitless
And overcompensated the fire required to negate it
Is this business bliss and our destiny to hate it
If so I prefer to face the fear and fooled in faith to jade it
Plain text edits stay elated for forever-ness
Sever heads with clever stress expressed of a papyrus
Tapping the ass of an atlas
Going places ass-backwards and mapless
Synap-analysis rap you can't grasp this
Without a tagline
Fucking, fucking fools, puppets
Play dead, go to sleep, forever