Lyrics

[Intro] (Ha ha.. yeah.. Mr. SOS.. Enok.. yo..) [Verse 1] I got a cerebellum filled with lots of words Pocket full of lozengers and lungs full of rasta herbs Getting higher than a flock of birds So when I tweet or talk a verse You know I was put here to rock the Earth Like the bass boost on a boombox, superb All that other claptrap that they rap's absurd Back back & forth Bitch, gimme something new before I snap and serve you like a plastic fork Everybody want something different but nobody wanna stand alone I'm like, hands down, I just wanna stand out But sometimes shit happen to you that you can't control That's a whole other lesson in life, Murphy's law So I stay ten steps ahead like a chess board Yes, yes, ya'll Pawn for a pawn Snatch your queen, checkmate your king then I'm gone [Hook] I'm gone Ain't no way you could catch me Cause when you get here I'ma be gone You can't be what I am cause Even if you try then I'ma transform You could never be me, feel me? Kill me I could still be reborn Ain't no way you could catch me Cause when you get here I'ma be gone Gone (repeat) Go (repeat) [Verse 2] I'm gone Off on another path to reach my dreams using what I already have EverReady battery brain Heavier than that Cold as a ghost train on a cemetery track Thirteenth bullet point for my discog This job I've held down like a disk jock on the 1210s Fast paced with a steady hand So dope whenever I telegram I kill a gram Staring at the ceiling fan like Andre in Elevators Trying to catch a feeling off of them instrumentals Searching for inspiration, trying to be influencial And save this generation with a memento Boombox, paper, pencil Take you back to 1990, Nintendo More than a symbol, it's a movement Just as long as you hold on and keep it moving going forward (yes) But no I ain't morphin, I'm warpin Underground like I'm snorkelin This is the truth and they are just a portion Too bad they mom & dad never have an abortion. Ha Is that bad? Fuck it. Make him an orphan Turn it to a book called Phantom Of The Corpses Cryptic however the dopest Cause I kill killers, so fuck Dexter Morgan I got extra organs Extra morbid Professional swordsman Intelligent hoodlum Conceptual foreman constructing universes Clusters of galaxies forming in the circles of my fingerprints Behold the work of geniuses He's the DJ/producer Enok & call me Diaz or the sauce man Mr. SOS the boss man Lapping a race, the only time we ever cross paths (Aw damn.. I am gone) (Hook) (Outro) So gone.. Out of this earth.. Flying out past the clouds.. Oh snap.. Is that a bird? Get outta my way, bird.. Out...