Lyrics

Hey yo I'm Pretty Boy Floyd Burnin' mortgages My stories is medicinal like orange is Catch me in the woods with the foragers Boomin' and scroomin', a stupid human, a poet of sorts According to, uh, sordid reports Throwin darts at the mental No forgeries could ever hold a candle as a pencil It's evidential A reckoning is presently evidencing itself In a crisis limbo Each crisis rolling all into each other Ouroboro-ian The origin of nightmares, man, look The Rio Grande just ran dry, we outta plankton The U.S. government fuckin did that, mayne They said, "thank them" Death to America, bomb them, tank them They orchestrate the death of the world Unless we change it How we gon' change them? Might have to let a couple of them fuckin' thangs bang, man, I'm just sayin' Don't blame me It's logic speaking Kool Abbasi And Socretes-ian conversesians, heh Cash rule everything, heh Ya boy, lactose–no cream for him Your man tragic, comic The magical yellow-brick negro orchestra Located up in the cerebral Plus the solar plexus Plus the aura chakra Plus where your eye number three go See Ya know the ego is superego All three though Y'all know me though Kool AD though Go hard for the people, amigo Yo