[Intro]

Ayy, ayy, ayy

I got it

Ayy, look

[Verse 1]

I'm dodgin' God when I see Him

My vision is not distorted

Nothing but death in His wake

I rather feel light than force it

This is real life unfortunately

I doze at a quarter to three

And rose at a quarter to five

Back up the poise in my mind

Pretendence is a habit

Pretend my woman doesn’t cry

Pretend I was a spastic

As grasping towards the sky

Pretension is a habit

These lyrics is immortalized

Dimensions built for crashing

And silence meant for coated eyes

And destroy just to build

And build to destroy

And rebuild post destruction

And coming from a vertical place

The horizontal pushes is nothing more than suffering

But I stride to align

As I'm battling time

I tell my mother "I'm finished"

I told my father "I'm fine"

Probably lied to them both

My silence is rare

My least favorite inhibition

My description of these mental images

Is too explicit

I promise myself

Not much

But happiness in a self

I could love my health

From a cellphone that buzz incessantly

My consciousness is riddled with arguments

They know bar for bar on this shit

I just question their authenticity

Essentially, that all that is meant to be

Don’t mean shit to me

The mystery, with a propensity for the bitter sweet

[?], my knee fill the ground

My breathing go soundless

My thinking is boundless

The process proceeds the prowess

[Refrain]

Ay, look, ay

I pull forty for my libation

Implore the reaper, I’m patient

I never rode bench, no offense, ayy

Ayy, look, I'm at a stalemate

A statemate I figured

My poise is my motivation

In quarterly calculated

And as I probe this rose in, ayy

Ayy, ayy, and this is failsafe

Failsafe, nigga

I pull forty for my libation

Implore the reaper, I’m patient

I never rode bench, no offense

I'm at a stalemate, a statemate, I figured

My poise is my motivation

In quarterly calculated

And as I probe this rose in

[Verse 2]

Uhh, yeah

And niggas is never doubting nothing

For justification, just [dial up?] the world

In doubt, substance

It’s all you missing

[Abulense?], niggas see, they thralls is hidden in cloth

Cause the women frivolous to say the least

I keep spitting until we feast

We continue to face the feat

But we tripping on our conceit

Less is more, more or less

And more mortals are nothing

And their immortals are less

I’m close to choking in stress, nigga