[Verse 1: Flowhipnotic]

Kids blazing, kids waiting, for the most

You wanna be the GOAT but you terrified of ghost

Got big dreams you setting up, but they don't measure up

You tougher than leather, but are you tough enough?

Way back when I thought everything was juicy

But now its 20 Now and everything is kind of fruity

Rap is diabetic, we in need of a medic, don't mean to wax poetic

But emcees don't get the credit, pathetic

Everything is so mechanical, America tyrannical, I need a sabbatical

Far from magical, cause the magic is gone

Rappers emulate and imitate when they perform

[Verse 2: Intra-Nothing]

Windows and doors, I stay inside, I'm scared

Staying as far as I can be from where I see the room the asylums aired

Steps either end up or maybe you may just find the square

Maybe I'm all about the sound that just might incite one stair

Okay, that end of the tunnel right there is just like brusque spread

Through the sense of the smell of the dislikes, likes crust threads

Eyes turn zed, the view is like a light unkept

The mystery is the hold that's ever present and is divergent

It's about the breath when the whispers drop to an end

And about the shots figuring out what those whispers ought to have meant

And how everything that's heard is exactly like confluent trends

And how a day is just like every effort on the field off to an end

And the seconds brain was caught by that which thought bookended

They wish to be in thoughts even if it's how the offshoot tenants

Never really sure like the time when they move on to errands

Joy's in the smile of a mind that has not gone through legends

Like a flight is the gleam in the eyes of an infant

Off an instant, take out the life, in people's eyes what they often intend

Sole is the part where constantly all the options indent

Taking time with what's supposed to be done is softening sand

Deeds can be summed up as a paw selling brand

With an office intact, plus pictures painting people popping pre-wrapped

Somebody does whatever, is forever towards a promise in fact

The ones smiling don't work towards if the gossip is apt

Logic infracts though, every morning is just like the final throws

The walk we supposed to be taking forth is like a vinyl course

For the time we exist, we stay hidden behind these ciphered tones

It's the knock on the door of the zone that lies alone

Some be about crop-in the toppin', some be about toppin' the croppin'

Is it always them who makes themselves run out of options?

Can we even feel alive when everything looks how op-shuns-do?

Well the reality is catching a flu