depressive tongue posse - fuck your smart phone lyrics
don’t got no phone on me, just got the chrome on me
put it to yo dome, homie, leave you an internet ghost only
[sharxxx]
what’s up with all of you on that throwback sh-t, them old rap hits
that nostalgia trip, but still gettin’ stuck in the phone trap
it’s a monster, and growin’ m-ssive, i won’t be p-ssive
‘til apple off in that closed casket
no p-ssion fo’ dat sh-t
i’m trackin’ on old–ss sh-t
i’m p-ssin’ a joint that’s lit
no ‘lectrical robo-stick
i cannot get with the times, i’m, in 1995, dialin’ the number to get online
it’s fine, cuz i’m still busy with victimless crimes, and keepin’ myself out the limelight, shine
landline in every corner of my crack den, in working order
drugs from across of the border, tracphone h–rder, shootin’ at cops and reporters
[boy froot]
up at the corner, talkin’ on a pay phone
yo i got my water so that i can stay gone
walkin’ through the desert, i don’t need no cellphone
takin’ every measure just to be left alone
pager on my hip and the blade in my hand
empty out the clip on the figures in the sand
i think i’m seein’ sh-t, hallucinatin’
reptile b-tch third eye illuminatin.’
yea it’s boy froot, no phone in my pocket
break into ya home then i stuff you in a closet
too far gone, i ain’t never gone stop it
talk to the chrome if you wanna f-ckin’ gossip
yeah b-tch, it’s depressive tongue posse…beeper on my hip, d-mn right we keep it flossy
[sharxxx]
i’m jackin’ techno-sh-t, run for cover
skimask and a slugger, a mugger
you a buster, thinkin’ that you undercover
but i’ma bust that phone one way or another
untraceable, faceless
data in my brain, b-tch, never in a place where it can be erased, just
tryin’ to stay elevated, if dtp don’t make it, i’m jumpin’ on the interstate naked
[boy froot]
f-ck a smart phone, i’ont need that sh-t
all my speakers blown, i’ont need no b-tch
callin’ up sharxxx on the landline, runnin’ thru the park wit a landmine
i’m comin’ to f-ck you up, pourin’ lean in my cup
f-ck an iphone, b-tch i don’t want any more of that stuff
all i roll is blunts, b-tch we smoke a bunch
it’s the pale white witch, smoke pouring out my lungs
[sharxxx]
i’m comin’ up out of the time machine
embarr-ssed by everything i been seein’
what happened to havin’ a life to lead?
it’s all on the web like a spider be
reality, or simulated fallacy, don’t matter to me
cuz i will be stabbin’ you irl, if you be a busta n challenge me
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