Arcade

Lyrics

The Reavers (ft. Priviledge and billy woods) - "Arcade" [Produced by DR. MONOKROME] [Intro: Priviledge] No doubt, son (Yes, yes). I'll be telling niggas every day, you nah'mean? Backwoodz. Cryptic words. Cuz at the end of the forest. (And where you heading from?). Mars. Right, you don't understand [Verse 1: Priviledge] Midday dreams. Turnpikes speak Learn like termites, hurt these trees That's wild. Uncertainly scene That deserted GWB at the podium Holding up thumbs like there's something to see Come on, cuz, it's just me And I'm just talking. I'm just an emcee You should probably be focused on the State of the Union Diffusion of my words into statements I'm using hyperbole to verbally qualify Knowledge that can't quite be quantified Step with your shoes. Check, one, two "Bust a Move" like this was '92 Baby, "you got it" like she had to have it Two wheels through this "Crosstown Traffic" Adding ass like "Spanish Castle Magic" Drew me like a magnet. More bad habits Split infinitives in sentence fragments Friday sunset, up to drag nets Don't holler back 'til we catch my Sun With all his gadgets and his glorious madness Head underneath since the campus habit Dirty dog, what's worse than the bloody cloth That fell off while she's whispering, "Touch me soft"? That's a trifling thought From a sick mind. It's time we taught 'em How to cross the moat without using the drawbridge Come on, son. What's all this commotion? [Verse 2: billy woods] Thrice the price, if it's Flight twice bright as a Police mag light High subverse For a nice enough slice Christ, take your wife advice Stay in tonight Spot's hot, Soul on Ice Pipe-dream-your-whole-life type Hype while you stay, fight. Hockey mask hide The overbite, Christ. Boxcar dice Crap out, we raise mics like Stanley Cups—call it luck You don't give a what, if, and, but or neither All the above Range truck Outside Citi banks, stuck the clutch Middle of the jux, sitting here when both go bust [Verse 3: billy woods] Double Dutch, double take Triple double. I don't do much. They spilling Bings, we fill a Dutch. Bear-hug A thug, snap vertebras, cut a rug On fresh graves. Now that's showing love Show me the drugs, make the trey not here Go to the pub the back, sip the cognac While I smack the track. Matter fact, give me the pack I'ma be right back Stupid is as stupid does 'Til the boys beat the game, pull the plug