Hook: Throw the match

We don't ever look back at the ash

Blood stains in my teeth

As I laugh

Walking through the fire whiskey

In my flask

My brother

Throw the match

My brother

Throw the match

[Verse 1]: Milk's gone bad

Travel a lot

Mail piles up

And the apples will rot

The fickle wanna ask

If we can battle or not

I say unravel the knot

And a rattle will pop

Walk down the block

With a handful of rocks

Looking at Goliath

Like he cattle to prod

The sky is the limit

They can't handle the fog

If our van break down

We bringin' camels & dogs

Giddy up Divvy up all of the rations

Irrational

Passion in casual

Fashion

You travel with snakes

Samuel Jackson

Actors with accents no actual rappin

The other day I threw

My ring in the ocean

& thanked god that I wrapped

It up in a Trojan

Heroes never look back at explosions

So we keep goin'

& never trust no one

Hook: Throw the match

We don't ever look back at the ash

Blood stains in my teeth

As I laugh

Walking through the fire

Whiskey in my flask

My brother

Throw the match

My brother

Throw the match

Verse 2 [Ft. P.O.S]:

I been burnt

Lit it

Hold it too long

Forget it

I ain't learnt

This whole shit's a mess

But fuck it I'm with it

All my years

All my fears

Have come true

But nothing has killed me

Who are you?

LOL

At your face

Shit yeah

Come get me

My whole crew is made

Of monsters

We driven

How you been livin?

I stay riding

With some hell bent

On doing

We keep shit moving

Ain't no use

Unless we cruise

With a view

That is truly

Worth looking at

Murder every sycophant

Serve the servants Ipecac

I'm barf incarnate

Hit alarms and

Carve a part to flee

I been starving just to eat you

My only purpose is free

Yeah

Barking up like every single tree

Wrong or right

If I die tonight

Just know I'm doing it

Extra in the Afterlife

Hook: Throw the match

We don't ever look back at the ash

Blood stains in my teeth

As I laugh

Walking through the fire whiskey

In my flask

My brother

Throw the match

My brother

Throw the match

Verse 3:

So much flavors

Like the mic of a dive bar

Throw the match

Follow through

With the side arm

Get money

Fuck critics

Make you a pie chart

Ain't gonna be a bitch

In record label side cars

No way no sir

Not a dodo

Fuck a pose

X-rays as the promo

Good to know

Drunk in a row boat

Need to find god

Still can't from my phone though

Direct in from my heart

To an XLR

Drop a flow

Leave the bar

With the smell of tar

Bed of stars in the sky

Yeah we set apart

Never put the fame

& the women

Ahead of art

Cut ties

Burn it down

Like it's Fort Mac

Rep Alberta

& the people

Who support that

All in with a bluff

And a short stack

Hoping that it doubles

Next time we report back