Return to Chillzville

Lyrics
I ain't hustle backwards Sideways and frontways Across the street and across the net Across the album and across your dial They're cherry picking facts While toggling a scroll bar I'm followed by a patrol car I'm a [blurry bit?] on a net rider FUCK I've gotta come up, I've gotta come up Uh-uh I've gotta come up, I've gotta come up Everybody I've gotta come up, I've gotta come up Driver You know I've gotta, I've gotta gotta Yeah Whoa Yeah Whoa Yeah Oops Yeah Woah Ok Woah Yeah One two, one two Ah there is no champion for my cause And no support group for my drug binge No clown car for my [mystic?] ensemblе No lipstick smeared on my mug's rim My Ethiopian [reeves?] highlightеr to [?] [?] conglomerate is on the fritz Ominous and [?] and a brick collage [?] my due diligence [?] jack fruit [?] Shovel [?] gold niggas in a track suit These yuppie pursuits elementary dues Sediments on back track loose to mirror [?????] But fuck that though I wouldn't die for anyone but myself by myself Sky dive from Orions belt, wave bye no cry for help When your in the tetrahedron for perspective reasons My congestive breathing hits the flesh of the evening After a census beating Outside the [?] precinct [walking in dead heaving?] From the upper middle class [?] from the sun speaking [Yeah my mommas success drinking?] success cheating So I split the difference on return trips from Santa's crypt I elaborate a new Los Angeles As a metastasized cancer cyst For the tax rated cannabis To [mitigate this?] with a spare As you navigate a labyrinth Of emasculated [?] hits At the table read for action flicks From the Manchurian candidates Get the fashion tips from the vegan friendly who feed the [?] in satin slips [?] data grips [?] I've been drinking heavy like I'm masochist I'd assumed their were two months in your room occupancy But the wrinkle crew moves posthumously I wouldn't die for anyone but myself but myself Sky dive from Orions belt, wave bye no cry for help Or snap out of it and give yourself to the family business No fancy gimmicks, [?] drowning out [?] [?]
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Credits
- Writers
- Busdriver