Eggs n Stuff (feat. DJ Absurd)

From the front to the back of your habitat From the happiest camper to the saddest sack Escape fatal paths with my rags in tact You can tell Death he can give Seth his swagger back Rejuvenating my old kicks With new shoelaces is one of my old tricks Stuntin for nothin in front of my own crib Gums bumpin hunting for something like go fish Go big being nice to the wait staff Status kinda like Christ when he breaks bad There's spikes and dynamite on the safe path Came to a fork in the road and just ate crap Pullin' extinct vowels out the way back They call me Mr. how could you say that It's cliché, talentless and spiceless But blah blah blah blah blah balancing my vices Something else challenging my whiteness I don't really know why I'm like this I'm sorry if you like it, you might slip Tryin' to keep pace with the rate that my brain flip I was stopped by a lyin' cop I was not texting officer, I was buying stocks. I do not Curse when I rap anymore, but fuck it I don't do a lot of stuff that I do, easy does it Everybody shake your butt Till the roosters waking up Hit the diner for eggs and stuff Then back to the whip blast the bass and drums Everybody shake your butt Till your waist and legs are stuck To my crib and blaze and puff Then nap till I'm back till maybe lunch This goes out to whoever puts up with me Living comfortably or struggling in recovery Shout to the homies who swear that they're brothers And the chicks with the unnatural hair colors Single ladies celebrate your worthiness Make noise for identification purposes Maybe a name tag would be helpful I'll be gentle, I Put the rizz in respectful Productivity was not so basic Started shiva shaker and forgot to make it Take a break and hope it motivates it I don't suspend disbelief, I embrace it Your plates spinnin my aches, trips and platelets Spray painting your haze, greys and beige-ness Maybe I'm fly as a 5'7" guy can get away with Try to guess what my age is Basically based and the haze is Makin my brain skip, gettin dumber than a fan of Andrew Tate is I'm made of phrases that are farm raised flambé and raze the acres Where ya mom stay Make a withdraw bank of America Apparently there be dank in the area If this chick ain't pranking movin' up the ranks Till we get ganked for our bank from her friend like thanks Wait what Everybody shake your butt Till the roosters waking up Hit the diner for eggs and stuff Then back to the whip blast the bass and drums Everybody shake your butt Till ya waist and legs are stuck Keep the roof all raisin' up Till some tough guy takes your drugs