Trellion & Sniff - Who Cares lyrics

[lyrics originally transcripted by jimmy dyna & etze] Trellion Yo, it's Mr. Who, Mr. T Slang officer you see Word to Copellor and Steve Cause I gots to get my weed At the bottom of the sea Played the whale carca** Washed up, no pallet You's a failed artist Impale targets Harpoon through your frail cartilage Deranged halfwit Cropping of a strange harvest Change garments Spitty spitty slang banger Orangutan swingy Crater city kingpin My famalam silly with it Peep the archive Gimme gimme bank digits Doctor can't quite figure where my brain went I said “it's all good, just tell me when it makes sense” Word to Nayben Slumming for a just cause Owe me money, I'll be busting through your front door Smoking something on your front lawn Copper-toss it, loosy blunt, pure Packed a cuban then it's back to Luna Grabbed the scuba kit Snorkel check, bottle bound Mortars [mortals?] not a muscle found Of course you drown, stupid b**h Should have never bench it Alongside one of the illest Mr. T, I roll with silverback gorillas in the mist of the abyss So what's it really, why the showerface? Hush your beaker or you'll be sleeping where the flowers lay No longer from around the way, you're miles away Underneath the second verse [?] You thought you can spit it, wrong Now you peck Figment Yo, get out the way Yeah, it's H.F. the house of brain Judas clock count the ways bouncing and refuse to stop Sound effect grouch to rip crack the sh** Lay snares around the boathouse to catch it kicks Acid drips Blood trickling upriver to f** with it I touch ??? the most, i roast the duck liver Went rattling [?] in stained gla** and paint cracked Strange slice on your flightpath, the plane crashed Who's there? [While] all these other rappers sound the same, what a pity My crew's actually insane, Lunarville-y Ain't nothing sweet, kid, ain't nothing pretty Parker Place clique got the key to the city Sniff Ay, yo Parker P., hop a beat, charge in lean Scoping out the armoured jeep Hold down the boathouse, no doubt No sound Whole city like ghost town Pin drop grenade, dash Get it wrapped stay strapped You get the payback, tied to the train tracks Pap'(er) stack bloodshot, f? in the attic space Drug bin fanatic, slag from your tickless Sniff sh**, f**ed tons of manies to your district Rap-raid mentality, slang based an*logies Smash the scene on some cla**ic steez, stash the keys In the safehouse, we got many many Your stupid crew will turn a penny, should be dead already Yeah, you're trying but it's drier than the Serengeti While you're fronting my crew will leave you dead and buried Figment Ay, yo It's Trelly then the Figmo with Sniff plus the victim I'll f**s your vixen and now she runs the kitchen Drifting, third person in the distance (floating) I'm word perfect with that vocab, you know that My notepad's been scanned, copied and ghostpacked I'm like “Yo, who wrote that? Gimme my flow back!” The boat shacks ring to blow that sh** No more slow-mo explore coast back-lit That's some sh** dreamer, biblical light schemer Miracle might seem like nothing after this I'd rather ship right here for like a gang of years And hang my peers from the piers like they were chandeliers Call' em Dangle people, them acts of random evil Yeah, we can defeat you, that f**ing man's unequaled These two ??? smash the scene on some “Who cares?” Dumb scapes done at your mom's place, we move there Who's there? [While] all these other rappers sound the same, what a pity My crew's actually insane, Lunarville-y Ain't nothing sweet, kid, ain't nothing pretty Parker Place clique got the key to the city