Dry Ice

Lyrics

[Verse 1: billy woods] Yeah, I was in on the plot, but you still got a fien' shock' Election's over, but the robocalls never stop Negotiations broke down, they sent in RoboCop I don't know nothin', I don't call a lot Answerin' the phone like you know I want somethin' Hey, you not wrong She said "Come inside if you comin'" so we bet the farm (of course) Anything I ever got was on the arm Anything I ever got was on my own Mengistu how I watch the throne Type of kid who never wanna be at home Be in the park shootin' hoops alone In the dark, red flag, but what you really gon' do for him? He already gone Once they put him in the hole, he was ready for 'em Submit the verse long form, still put it on Twitter for you silly niggas Walk past homeless like "Cry me a river" No question about it, doc, I'm gettin' sicker When she said the magic word, definitely got bigger No question about it, I'm definitely gettin' sicker Smoke like dry ice, every line is a mirror Try as they might, never see him clearer What he most wanted she wouldn't give Took everything else, he the type to do it big [Hook: billy woods] It's like an ocean out there Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though Under the undertow It's like an ocean out there Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though Under the undertow It's like an ocean out there Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though Under the undertow It's like an ocean out there Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though Under the undertow It's like an ocean out there Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though Under the undertow It's like an ocean out there Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though Under the undertow [Verse 2: E L U C I D] The universe is unbothered What's the matter if I murder a few rap bloggers? (Him) History told by a conqueror Rounded the remains to the nearest tenth Tell me how he grew grain like it's his Leave no print Skin to skin Wickedness in high places, watch your shin Swordplay, bounty of war, red sauce is port-based Storm chasin' Tryna to melt my face on my born day Shape of things to come Practicin' for a world where they don't exist Pigs that shoot hoops with the kids Few months later, slappin' cuff links on they wrist Runnin' off script, pop, smoke, sniff Psychotropic dose, pockets open, swear to no one I know oceans, I got no lungs