blindskywatcher – rotten [ultra violence mix] lyrics
digibro:
i chase release, sixteen bottles deep
in some weak sh-t, my peak sh-t dried out
always night out when i look
i’m still too lazy to cook
nowhere else open at night
so i stay after that light
wawa subs, takin’ that bite
cigarettes gettin’ that light
ate again, drivin there twice
i don’t like none of they food
f-ck am i s’posed’ta do?
no one else awake here so i stay jackin’ my dude
gettin’ in fights online
wastin’ my f-cking time
tryin ta f-ck with this wine but now my tolerance is too high
rhymes becoming off-time
wrapping thoughts up in tight little rice b-lls to eat up and spit out
at people who p-ss by my house on the sidewalk
you balk at my face, mother f-cker, i’m carving your eyes out
you don’t know who you’re dealing with, i’m a man with his mind out of
control — don’t know what i’m pr-ne to do at this hour
my skin has gone sour and bruised
i’m rotten through
endless jess:
come to on the floor
in a pile of trash and p-ss sh-t stained drawers
i’m a hot mess h–rder, the lord of disorder
calorie absorber, performer, a camcorder
and i’m bored, another symptom to record
in the pit, the only hole i fit anymore
until i stick more wh0r-s
with my thick pork sword
i got ticks on my d-ck getting sick and engorged
i used to dream of how i’d be when i was grown
picture me with a 6 pack, not the kind that foams
now i live alone, never shower, i live in squalor
blocking out the sun so i never know the day or hour
and my t–th all yellow, gums receding
gingivitis, cut myself eating now i’m bleeding
while i’m beating up the mic
and i’ll take another bite
of the burger that i dropped in the trash last night
digibro:
fast food on my mothaf-ckin’ breath
wine spilled on my mothaf-ckin’ chest
i’m drunker than my rhymes are good
my wordplay’s bored, i torn between asinine and scorned
i’m fine from four till dawn
but wronged from six pm to one
i’m no fun and no body cares what i’ve become
or how i’ve run so far from the sun
my body is f-cking falling apart
fat and gross and weird and f-cked up
my beard looks like a rapist
my shape is amorphous
i don’t know what i enjoy
there must be, please, i hope, a point to all this
somewhere along the line when looking at the time
stopped meaning anything my mental state became in constant flux
i’ve got six thousand bucks and don’t know what i want to own
i’m grown, i’m grown, i’m grown, i’m grown, i’m grown
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