[Verse: Budreau]

Prayers towards the father, lemme preface with a question though:

How come all these males boxed in try and push the envelope?

Never have y’all ran me down, must’ve skipped that episode

Taste defeat right where you stand, that shit is sketched in stone

To flip bricks was a duty I never witnessed

Refrain from referring to those as misfits

They grind so thеir kids can wish less

No Christmas, but I’m wrapping up the presеnt

The distant future’s where I’ve got business

Past the days of peacekeepers being so recurrent

Clash against the weak sneakers before they roam the surface

Passion crafts a believer, peep all the souls you earnin’

What lies ahead is endless, fog gates can’t withstand oval serpents

Damaged Goods has a ring to it

Crank those speakers, this the theme music

ODST OST rooted: first John to evolve with artificial intelligence since Master Chief’s unit

Cyborgs and life forms will fight wars from different time warps just so my rhymes flourish

I’ve got a whole album cooking up over that notion

Can’t compare machine made to handwoven

Seemed from the start my lyrics could touch a spirit

When Budreau drops, y’all wanna hear it

Who would’ve thought half a decade ago music not being part of my life would’ve delayed the growth

But I grew up with heavy metal and hard rock shit, yet never settled discharging rounds or chopped Bricks

Many rappers irked on how to start a topic

Budder’s brain lacks an “off” switch when writing; clueless how to stop it

Always my mind versus verses; may invest in Vercise

Versace only vanquishes vermin’s

Gucci blankets and curtains have burned a burden for the person

Mission objective: to fuck rap hard while still preserving a virgin

Have y’all lost in my game: charted for uncharted too

COD is proof my bars are like martyrdom, y’all caught a few

Likely however they’re blowing up with zero cognizance

Detailed documents’ll lead to opulence; I’m positive. My quest to chop a rift into the rap game is like Oculus

Bottomless Pit mixed with the Grips of Death is hard to trounce. Flag half-staff to make sure it counts

Names Budreau, don’t you dare mispronounce

This universe at the moment is flipped on it’s axis

Boutta move my vows to Texas from all the taxes

Freedom of speech equals the maxim

Enter a bank, the teller tells me to get my identity and mask it

Wearing that face plate in your car won’t protect from my tre eight

Count to ten, this extra one’ll make way

When it comes to garbage, you know what they say: we break down squares just to save space

Mayday, who are these wannabe armies?

Larping in the park is malarkey

Horned birdy horny for me, what does that whore need?

If not some floor seats, then ferg ensues. Little allegations against humungous

Had a few crushes, hoping I could be the one they lean on

But pennies being the reason we floatin’ has me Lost

Chicks are bound to get nicked when Benjamin’s break down; waves shall obey

Finished letting the beef shine, it’s time to take that gal away

Hanging around with a nympho proves weak in my mental

I grip a pencil, in this case, my iPhone XR and stab the notepad til the time zone shifts hard