Dead Groves from Sketches5 by Buggy
Tracklist
| 4. | Dead Groves | 2:23 |
Lyrics
When it comes to the cause, the cost, the vision, the laws, I pony up and take the job
Unbalanced talent, I’m stretching it thinner than ‘Sandra O’Brien, but my skin is thicker
Xanadu cannibal, animal opulence, Hannibal Lecter and some Chaka Khan
Shit got me feeling like Buffalo Billy, I’m fucking myself and repping my dogs
Wait, ayo
How can you swear off being a corny bitch but you’re out here rocking that Chrome?
How can you rep that suicide shit but start crying when you really got a piece to your dome?
How can you expect me to fuck with your shit when it’s obvious you never had the heat in your soul?
How can you never look back on Florida, yelling at Doechii to come home?
Yo, I got no excuses
They think I’m posturing, bitch we’re talking executions
Go arm the runt of the litter and let ‘em exact some retribution
And when somebody gets hurt everybody’s just left in dead confusion
Like, what the fuck are we doing?
Ask where I’m caching this passion, I’m almost done filling this bottomless pit
If you approach me with all your bad manners, I’m sorry you can go take a walk with that shit
And I know everybody’s got little secrets, not tryna make light with my bit
But you can take all your gossamer gossip and shove it, not rocking with a sleepyheaded bitch
If you hit my line call me the white boy Gaddafi
Cuz to make me leave the scene y’all would have to sodomize me
With a bayonet
No need for paper checks, just pay your debt
Y’all never obey your threats, I’m made to test
Your Butch Cassidy raps are so trashy
And I’m not even comparing myself, I’m not classy
But if the game’s a bitch, and it ain’t, you’re all chastity
Just keep making love to facsimile in ASCII
I’m like Maria with the cleaver
Brain fog as thick as pea soup, dreamy fever
Drain clogged with hair and the memory of the grieved
I’m clearing my hard drive for more ideas to cantilever
All y’all edgelords just some cocaine Hitlers
Go from station to station to west side, fake Berliners
A new low for even y’all tricks and blood-thinners
Condé Nasty with the fascists, style guides by Wintour
Who put Eva Braun on the cover of Vogue?
You gotta look good to cozy up with the volk
Don’t worry, keep rocking to the groove of the Moog
We’re all drinking Tropicana, but where the fuck are the groves?
