7th Ward swerving, white Benz, wheels turnin’
Rose gold chrome accent on the rims, picture perfect
No destination, let’s just wait and see where we end up
Burnin’ zones, burnin’ up the ozone, Backwood stay tightly tucked
Bitch look at me, she said: Yuck, what the fuck? Ho I’m Oddy Nuff
I don’t fuck with lifeforms of the planet, bitch, you out of luck
I got better shit to do, like sip the lines up in my cup
I ain’t sharing, pint stay tucked, waste my whole life hunting ducks
The flows on this thing generally are pretty tight, it seems almost as if there is a slightly larger focus on hooks with this project, too, some of which really pop, like on the track ‘Nicotine Patches’. One day I’ll forget their name!
I be that rotten garbage crawlin’ out the ditch, stitches for a snitch
Bodies in the fridge, blade scraping
Grey aping, banging on my fucking chest
Feel the static, problematic, be my motherfucking guest
Yung Christ, masked up for a poltergeist
Feel like I’m stuck in a vice, feel like I been paid my price
My wrists have been sliced
Now I’m scarred from the blade that’s pressed against my skin
Lifeless and I’m stuck up in this shit
The walking Mortal Sin, whose lives will never end, fuck
But simultaneously, there are spots on this album where the lyrics can come off a bit too edgy or try-hard, or basic, maybe even juvenile, especially on the track ‘Mr. Nice Guy’
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