[Verse 1: Toth]

Well here we are again just you and me

I don't need a friend, maybe two or three

That's me myself, and I

Happiness will be awhile

Until I remember how to freestyle right

Man, I see bland faces, floating next to me

Is this my destiny?

Hope not, or I might throw up, to lose the recipe

Man, I sure can stay inside my head

And play dead, like night of the living white dreads

Who want to be angry, but them seem frightened

Sort of reminiscent of clash of the teen titans

I used to have a girlfriend, but it was time to go

When she was trying to show

How much hate she could still taste from things that happened awhile ago

It was wearing thin, but I can be a trifle slow

Especially on a tourniquet that should've stymied her flow

I never earned her full bliss, it went wrong

But my permagrin is quite strong, like 500,000 miles long

Cry on, cause I'm like the swan, and if this mic is on

I guess I might stay on long enough to write this song

Yeah, right, it's hype

Get your clothes girl

I don't have the time or mood to make your toes curl

No more open mic?

No sir

Ever since you laid the cold hurt, it's a ghost world

NEXT, a strict regiment of sets on the bowflex

Chromium to mold flesh and wheat grass to show the rest

Meditation and some slow stretching

Let the mind go to rest when necessary, speaking of which, no sex

It's a time to heal, not a time to hate

And don't try to keep it real in such a sad state

Just be depressed for a sec, and if it ends late

Be like "Yay! I made through to the next day!"

The best say, you can't stay in one place too long

The rest say, you're gay if you still like those old love songs

The test press day is now, I best press play and taste the sound

Just in case I see a queen and want to checkmate her style

And we could just embrace, or ride out

But right now, I'm still looking for love inside my hideout

It's really nothing to cry about

But when I'm out patience with my mistakes, it's like, "God, get the white-out!"

[Verse 2: DOOM]

What a messy fuss, it happens to the best of us

Love/hate to raise the heart rate up to your chest to bust

And leave you with just enough stress to cuss

Ooh trouble, two's a couple, three's treacherous

And got you open like the high seas

Hoping like these for the squeeze on live G's

Jive turkeys, they lucky if they survive the depths of hell, it's murky

Jerky, come on work with me

See how she's twerking the skirt with tits perky

A flirt with a smirk that could body you in one shot glance

And let 'em rot, I'm like "Not a chance, hot pants!"

Run feet, and keep from off front street

That sizzle like the blunt heat, with business that's for under sheets

Creep on secret missions, peep it

Or else be in some deep shit, with more fishes to sleep with