[Verse 1: Tom Solar]
Dirt in, dirt out, that's the way we spin round
Always have, on the same route since paper and playgrounds
Remember that sh**? Remember when December was lit?
Now it's just touch screens and bad communication
Single motherf**ers sending emojis in mitts
Subzero souls trying to f** on they phones, snowed in at home
Catch a bit of sun and the bill collector come
Never get their point across to whom or what they point across the room at
Too afraid to "see you soon" at, ooh ooh ooh, such a shame the game has been kidnapped by has-beens and been-hads
So just lick, roll, fold, flick that mold-of-gold until you fold
f** that club, done with the shticks, the rick roll's old
I need me some new modes of being if I wanna throw down
Especially while the old town is still cold - somewhere below below, burr burr
Been bumping so much Gucci Mane I'm starting to feel like a trapstar
But that's insincere, I ain't from the hood, never peeled my iris for gun fire
But I can still relate to the left behind
I'm next in line to not give a f** about the line and step sideways
It's my way or the highway
I need to go somewhere I can say "hello hello", get my dap on, have a gorgeous face reply back, talk me up, put some back in this lap, off, and back on
I'm off and on with living lavish
It's only because I'm in the lab most hours
After I've made this tapestry of sound and played it loud and louder, I'll have the power like Kanye, or Tony Montana minus the aspect of powder
Truth be told I wanna party every day until I arrive in Paradise City, in the afterlife do the same
I don't pity no fool, only myself if I lose, but pity ain't on the menu
I pray you don't snooze on me
Have a little booze on me
Break a few rules on me, but don't call the boys in blue on me homie
This music I make is illegal; it's simply too dope not to be lethal
That's the life of a soloist...
Do you
Embrace your inner me
It's not your enemy
Work your feet to the notes in this
Funky funky, what's cold?