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7/11 - fumble system lyrics

one entire of a gram of a quarter and a half meat on the entree tray
sauced from vegetables i don’t need any veggies at the quickie 7+11 an official
not the outfield type what isn’t so shy get an undie & outie outta stretch
bewar(e) i sense these admires hippie chicks me off to a wonderful twilight
no wonder oven mitts on french fries are fire wrong type
in a mirror of time when the gifts educate the e.d. they get
a body bag to protect their heads & the headed of your tags on comforters
don’t work looks like a sushi roll of a hundred hedges in row 7+11
don’t hurt no bow required the cushion on rare blood no red no woosing out
that means on fire arrows i night attack with my fellow statue jedi’s
i need a stick of hemp now i don’t know where i placed the bong it has a weed brochure
now i need an oddly stash fusion in the pihranna fish tank peeing in slowing
eden linoleum what stamina demanding enter fumbling like a busted lip
an old peeling leather wallet just because hoodlings mumble under their lips
7+11 healing stranded strangers the good type i got a fund raiser
like anikan skywalker racing boonta eve winter gave a warning shot
enveloped in my back my pie have an evil hunger quencher just remember
everyone else has got the same family gifts presented by the end of 11
& 7+11 all i need is a tie fighter pilot job like in sp+ce place i’m living
situated when the christ of my pal jesus candles lit heaven scented
malware like a wedding education 7+11 this a cold & minted plated
want a corn flake by the husk with a parade on a scale of mexico holiday
of the dead i travel a grenade ballistics to where you strand yourself to in a while
i keep a clean mop & you clean m & my boots shine have a polish yes sir i’m amazed
hit+man pretend i’m too much of a lie 7+11 sly as my back+up careers i then am too
much of a lie for men hits to pretend i hold a grudge against 8 year olds yelling at my
spendings don’t weep resting on the wooden bench & i’m telling you too close to the splinter
get out of the castaway hotel with new license plates & old
brochures when grilled packs of hoodlums are about to laugh out
t++th with a wimp these cheese sandwiches part of this
lent & hyde another glimpse true gates choose out of
homes & finally a final late fumble system put the pour faucet on us credit & evil edit
the humble under an umbrella when frightening lightning
younger than youth a thug but i’m a few generations
younger than you & that snug at a shack with a fort of
frats some smuggler ran a track the tred a hike
listen to them finch birds belch blue also take a week
to wake up with a feather the pulse felt them where they
eat each corner of the cake and cans of peaches & an elf
can that each continually have electric continuity why elvis
presley & i land on an island of green hits a night with
whit new the rook so rude i reside previously a plan to get
far away by now you know 7+11 won a source & i know it would problem
save mini life saving dice with no problem a set of 9 probably get set
each & every chimp of their own getting silly in a sentence
of weekly so the remix was hit shortly adorn like your mixing
fish gils & the skunk lad air filling them dice them land mines
i can’t stand very long i’m 7+11 & very tall even the left footing
probably left winged party now you two getting a long dose and total
of hemp to climb will this pelvis walk the zone i know him refined
& in denial i tramp on the dumpster splash i have to admit it you are the
most beautiful dumpster trash
on the sp+ce between your folder in between your sneakers
i’m getting weened between the bleachers only for the intercom speakers
strep+throat step+brothers instantly need a sourcraut box of weenies
set & the trespassing sign said void i don’t avoid the teflon or your
smallest toupee 7+11 got a check box smash the nag champa
no matter in wimps i trust last i’m latest and a late plate
you’ll need a fat place in these chimps with a withheld glimpse
i sold your sega genesis so i could rent my n+64 to play
star wars rouge one x+wing squadron i need a 7+11 i don’t require
brooms or mini stings that steppenwolf got under+drawn the time clones
stair case in hemp chimes that the wind getting down a second time
of player 1 maxim shoulders radioactive green i’m worsening
than the only one that can plaque down a small amount of
a trek sign plan & i ain’t done with the software or the console
nothing can scam me like vodka at big red liquor store
7+11 on the fumble i don’t know if a apple big red
could help you 7+11 in a fee with a baseball um a granny
smith apple i catch a ball for the referee i’m a pitcher in the outfield
now i don’t mind if your face, your car, & your place smell like
a car wreck i think i can i think i can now at an old
opera play wondering what it would sound like if i composed a
silk string theory now i don’t know what i’m about to fumble system

- 711 lyrics

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