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a-ross – lined pockets / dungeon interlude lyrics

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[intro – lil buuf & a-ross]
[lil buuf]
i’m lonely ok?
[a-ross]
ok
[lil buuf]
can i get a dollar?
[a-ross]
i don’t have any
[lil buuf]
can i get a quarter or something?
[a-ross]
i don’t have any
[lil buuf]
can i get a quarter for a pack?
[a-ross]
nah man i don’t have enough

[verse 1]
went on an excursion for a quest of slight acceptance
trees bent backwards for any vent of light semblance
of reign from the yellow king septum
came across a dead heap of scrambled pride
sky raisins buzzed for a hematocrit chaser
the oder cause for an amble stride
i wonder if the minuscule murid completed his degree
might have if the triumvirate could make the widow maker see
not one of satan’s soldiers could comprehend immaculate pr-nunciation
got proton particles half on one shoulder and angelic dust testing patience
it’s complicated, how stated only the strong can make it
once red dotted none can shave it
nine double barrels aimed straight shot the heavens
flying mobiles bazooka clammed sh-t
meanwhile righteous cult servants lay in hammocks
pockets lined with chewed gun powder and lint
mother hens hatched hainus crimes demented
asking for any surplus advent shaded sled friend, god send it
remembrance of anything less than frantic mended
jimmy altered mind sufficient sulfur kool-aid
dog years, all h-ll l-ssoed on a tuesday
loot pay is every lunar ascension twenty four paces
any other power hungry cyclops movement requires sword baking

[hook – lil buuf & a-ross]
[lil buuf]
can i borrow a dollar or something?
[a-ross]
nah man i only have enough for a pack
[lil buuf]
but i need some money
[a-ross]
i only have enough…
[lil buuf]
ok

[verse 2]
walked into the store with a pocket full of lint and flower seeds
p-sser by’s march to p-wns walk coward’s deed
h-ssle me if you want an inner flame lit by a crow’s beak
slowly inch beetle crawl to the chip aisle
like a sneak king with six nine weed on a mission for hit time
bodega guardian zoned like he snorts the restroom p-ss lines
pig whistles blare blood and ocean silence beat to the maiden marches
i hate it beyond existence of alienated slug men with humans plated
forced execution of inhuman fate by a dated sergeant, arm this
branded by plugged in reality bumping fully r-t-rded mockery
grab el producto off metallic ledge, quest complete honestly
now transform to counter patient looking to make god-less seed
shady character make-shift appearance straight outta gutter
demon powder caked trust fund homebody, not prove to make the heart flutter
stutter’s i’ll take a frap with iced gut b-tter
don’t leverage me with an offer i can’t refuse
i only got a pocket full of nickels, not enough to beverage you
settled, finally got the package and empty gut, hand
how are you doing? no answer, scan intelligent born baby impregnation, no news
accompanied by miss america’s blow-head doll with sl-t dudes
realization sets in, not enough for the produce
let me just go grab my card from my apartment. prove it!
test me, don’t abuse your privilege solutions
finally out of the store same bum camp asking for retribution

[hook – lil buuf & a-ross]
[lil buuf]
can i borrow a dollar for a loosie?
[a-ross]
nah man i ‘m broke
[lil buuf]
but i just need a few
[a-ross]
i don’t have any…
[lil buuf]
ok, -ssh0l-

[verse 3]
apartment coped up by death wish thoughts and promises
brain imploded, caught the sh-t that made villagers vanish
even the convenience dude’s smile banished
strolled out in the cold, 7 inch freeze sickles grow between each toe
i don’t know, same coat, no happy accident or framed fro
a different bob glow, twin peaked on each shoulder homed
the red curtained one talks more convincing
tears and melancholy leisured transform to word mincing
no more poor me, chorus be
life’s alimony ain’t storied
the end is here, pour me another forty
i’ll be the one gorging
when the clock strikes twelve
all cognizant cogs pikes valves
primal rage begins to spike dwell
h-ll, can’t imagine a world without it
or with it, life can’t go on, i don’t doubt it
just hope my acts of pranced anxiety not spotted
returned to the birth place of thought’s fully developed
collapsed on hammock plugs, can’t spell guts
comedic how veggie plates saved by grace yet all intelligence sucked
by moon rotation, every nerve’s synapse fickled
dead man’s labor hides no key for a chest, just a sin and a sickle
no more confidence, one pocket, no lint and absolutely no nickels

[hook – lil buuf & a-ross]
[lil buuf]
can i borrow a dollar for a loosie?
[a-ross]
sh-t man, i don’t have anything
[lil buuf]
c’mon man, i’m living in filth
[a-ross]
i don’t have any…
[lil buuf]
lb: f-ck you