[Verse: Jay Complex]

Memoirs of a chubby kid that grew into a nerdy dude

About to be that age that’s one lower than backwards 32

Whispered to the beat like “baby, come here let me murder you”

I guess I got a fetish, Jay the ripper, but I’m hurting too

Jay be nimble with a candle stick

You better drop the torch when I light it, you can’t handle this

Lighter fluid in my veins, spark it through my hand or wrist

Anytime I pass the rock, it bombs, now I’m anarchist

I better hold on to it

Police tap my phones, but there’s no wrong doing

They thinking it’s arson, I flame daily like Carson

Just because I need a rhyme, let me shout out Ms. Parson! Hey!

Now you’re burning with the mother fucking fire flower

Throw in couple trees, get connected to a higher power

Bring them double D’s, women sweat him the entire hour

Cause I make them hit them wet notes like a choir shower

Soprano, soprano!

I’m making enemies out of fire fighters that I know

Viva la revolution, but make sure it’s cubano

And measure me in keys, a scale of 1 to piano

And everything I do is so real

Turn my jacket to a sweater like I told my coat chill

Lost my girl the same night that I wrote this very song

Don’t be sorry, the pain is only reminding me how hope feel

Fruits of my labour, call them fuckers passion

And I’ll probably be green until the roots are trying to ask him

For a feature, nice to meet ya, ignorant about fashion

And scared to call a woman baby way before contraction

Mentality be the complex kind

Think it through and you’ll be joining up with complex minds

What it do? The album cover is a bomb threat sign

Listen carefully, my music is a context grind

Inaction could probably be the worst of all crimes

Since there’s no conviction, let me sentence you with rhymes

I fucked with other bitches, yeah I fucked with other bitches

But they knew the deal, they don’t ever tag me in they pictures

I’m so sorry to everyone that thought I was conscious

Call this one a coma, making sure the rocket launches

No I’m not a stoner but I stay under the weather

In fact, them clouds keep away the rain and make it better

The woman of your dreams...will probably get you killed though

That’s what you learn from inception, unless you're real slow

I flip the script and now I’m chill like a pillow

And money ain’t real, but still prefer a fake mil, no? No?!

You blogging niggas better post this!

I lost my job at All City Chess off some joke shit

But it was no hard feelings when I wrote this

I hope that I forgive all my enemies, but it’s hopeless