Sheep

Uh, cold world that we livin' in

Companies front like humans, no purpose we given in

Live stock on the market, I'm smokin' a pack of sheep

That's why they pushin' the rappers most herd for the dividends

And it pains to know everything that I am

Just a shell of who I was, reflective within the sands

Like a font lookin' back at its own site

Never rough around the edges, but I still don't feel my own type

Come to the middle, the basis is Eurocentric

Why we hate ourselves and fake it? It's basic and rudimentary

Bakin' up who you meant to be

Cook up a storm, but I don't feel the need for all these tasters pseudo-cheffin' it

Uh, we been gaugin' truth for the benefits

Like how my fear jump on occasion to prove my penmanship

Childhood trauma, now my inner critic steady narratin' me through the negative

Park-in-son's thoughts, so shaky through the development, uh

I'm makin' moves for the treasure, you shakin' the booty effortless

Racin' through it to get to it

Passin' all them lines till ya circle get redone and the shape of the groupie etchin' it

Act like someone else, that's a role that you finna end on

When we put you in a cast, you makin' the movie credits, bitch

If I ever related to voodoo etiquette

The needle on the vinyl was makin' me move with elegance

Debate lords in amazement through my endeavours

While I'm feelin' so abrasive, no fakin' it through these lenseses, ha-ha

We was raised to be rooted senseless

And planted within the poison of snakes in the student's head again

This is but a take on the case of the truly delicate

That's lackin' ventilation in the brain, so they move to end the shit

Test 'em til they pop up, aim for a student memory

Examinin' your psyche on the day that you oozin' venom

Feel like, I'm livin' in the moonlight, with the sun shine

Feel like, I'm livin' with pretendin', like it's trendin'

Fresh likes, they'd never see the real me, but they'd believe me

Fly by, I'm livin' in a high life, but it's the sty life

Livin' with that exploitation

Fillin' the ganja, death smoke blazin'

If the next boy hatin'

Stick 'em for nada, get yo paper

At the metro station

Brampton boy, got that Presto waitin'

My shit gas, petrol gaugin'

Your shit empty, bet me 'cause I'm

I'm DQ at the Barbecue, grillin' the death of nations

Deserted on the inside, littered with extra waist and

A bit of domestic rage that's been skirted by them thick thighs

So if the jury judge us, then the Verdict is a myth right?

Get rid of redemption, we'll erase it

Fill it with death and mental patients

With infested inclinations and the best of imitations

Bottom of the barrel, if they testin' my art

I'ma draw on 'em 'cause I been riddled with sketches in the basement

I been a cog in this cognitive system

A brother lost it for the cost of ambition

In this late stage capital, evolved from monopolist visions

Became a fraud for the art of audition

Hope it's eradicated but the static fadin' us

They served us outfits on a plate

We grabbed that fabric, ate it up

Good or bad occasion, yup, we still get styled off the worst purchase

Streamin' through the current like the Nylon the earth's surface

Wish I could Rwanda part of this life

But Kenya kick it if you not as present for your kid's tribe?

And I can't sample nothin' off the plate with lawyer fees

They charge you for the sight, if U-Ganda at it too long

Window Shoppers gettin' Sudan and you gotta pay the royalties

Trickle Back, no Cairo, they got Ronald Reagan loyalty

That's how a Con-Go get it off the pain of true religion

White man gettin' tans-and-he'a kill us through the dimness