pockets - Intellectual

[Verse 1]

I'm up inside the kitchen, I'm chasing flavors

Get the message, I'm done with making favors

I made my favorite, hear the glass tink together

We been fasting forever, it seems. It's all a dream to you

But me, I'm kinda starved when the pleasure begin

A couple white bitches sitting right next to my friend, yeah

Where they go? Uh, I don't know, uh

But we know you know we know we stole the show again

You got a bone to pick, so pick a fucking bone

Hearing voices when we're cooking all alone

Here we go again

Like it matters, it's just another news clipping

Another blog post, a step closer to lost hope

You're all the fucking same, it's fucking lame

Why you humans gotta lose it when y'all lose the fucking game

Where they go? Uh, I don't know, uh

But you know, you know, you know, we out the hole again

Y'all got a bone to pick, so pick a fucking bone

Hear the voices when they're typing all alone

And they're so content

Making money, take it from me, I can make some more

Shake your storage, bake it, pour it, straight from pagan lore

Five-angled angel wings made of clippings

Big pupils on my pupil's face is dripping

I keep a bad bitch wearing silk robes

I bought experimentals off the fucking Silk Road

Feed her stones, if it's crushed she bubble up

If we alone, she can suck the butter up

Buttercup is nothing but the nut I'm busting, bitch

I'm puffing blunts with dumpers crushed inside [?]

You fuck with this, I never cared or gave a fucking shit

The only reason you can hit it is you suck my dick

Fuck it, tabs on the upper lip

I buck a stick up on the corner and my luck was sick

Change, change, change in the pocket

It'd be a shame, shame, shame if you dropped it

Brought the slang, slang, slang and all the hot shit

Get me high, get me high, 'fore the Glock spit

Pocket, pocket, pocket, in the monster