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puke king – black jack (birthday cypher) lyrics

i’m a son of a gun like my mum s-xed a rifle.
making moves, like movie: latronum; search the t-tle
i just hit soft to taunt them, then jigsaw their options:
it’s their life or mine; i take both. i’m a monster.

my last two nights i’ve been jack’s tooth bite.
insomniac is back, not black but too white
my last two lives i’ve been jack’s new sight
my new songs are wack? f-ck that, i’m puke!

i’m like a black jack from fight club. f-ck what your life does
i’m jack’s bad back with an ax and a lighter
i’m lighter than sam cooke. i’m blacker than magic
the dope man whose dope show’s so dope that it’s tragic
a clown with the bread stick whose dead wit is deadpan
don’t f-ck with the breathless, the heartless or get vamped.
determined to deter. all love letters get stamped
i hung with the hangmen whose last words were neck snaps
see, they forget that i’m this sick ’til vomit is spitting
from clenched t–th, don’t bench me, my artery’s dripping
my drenched sleeve is red, bleed on laptop encryption
the .zip file corrupted; my last words were missing
i wrote them in notepads i scattered from pockets
i run late for buses, but casually walk in
i spoke true in both raps, i spattered no nonsense
i spit truth in sh-t booths like cubicle, toilets

i’m sick like a dog, i fill that reservoir steadily
get no replies, no results from my résumés
seeing me handing cvs just to get a break
i come back to my pad, load my drums and get a break
i sever brains from spinal chords. the final word’s
all i’m ever writing for, to reach the rhyme that i’ll adorn
with scorn and wit and lordly spit
throw my laptop at d-mn walls like “get off my d-ck!”
and i’m from that reekie motherf-cker
i’m cheeky for no reason, believe me motherf-cker
sick of talking to people who deceive me, like their words were
worth a single second of my presence. i’m a c-nt
i used to be so livid, then i was prolific;
now i never write, because i’m always busy living
she said “blink you’ll miss it!” i held my eyes shut
cos i’m always tired now-a-days and i don’t trust a.. thing
i’ll never lose my sight but my vision does blurrrr
went from so so poor, to so couture
my world got flipped, but i landed on a pegasus;
the training wheels fell off and i’m just f-cking peddling
i’m meditating, man it’s like i want it then i’ll have it
i never lost my mind cos it’s like i never had it
so i don’t mind at all if i never get ahead of this
my sight came flooding back, it’s hard to keep pretending
regret is funny to me cos i’m greeting all my dreams
and i’m seeing all the people that i really should’ve been
living lives that aren’t that great. i guess the gr-ss ain’t always green
if your eyes are always closed, but i never ever sleep
respect was all i wanted, now i have it all and then some
so you can talk your sh-t, as long as when you tell them
you tell them that i’m making it; i’m crafting like i’m notch
playing tyler and just smiling cos he’s a b-st-rd and i’m not
technically i am, but that’s not the point i’m making
all those breaths i kept on taking, when they said that i just waste it
my talent became balanced with the p-ssion in my veins which
led to where i am; still just laughing at the “famous”
i vented and just emptied all the feelings i kept bottled
felt the bubble in my stomach that had kept my stomach hollow
erupting. as my tongue sent vibrations through the air
my troubles turned to rubble, buried me, but i don’t care
i relented through the wreckage to find the house regret lived
in. in a sense, innocent, but when the scent leaves an imprint
on your printed top, your thinking stops every time your fingers clawed
on dusty keys to print your thoughts but the aroma lingers on

and now i’m living in a position where i’m sitting here and listening
to mixes i’ve been getting from producers who envision hits
it’s sickening to think about, i try to keep it distant then
the closer that i come, the more i feel like f-cking giving in
indifference is my bluff, when you call it’s like it’s never in
my mug is mean as f-ck when i think about the dividends
but i call my posse up and they act like we were never friends
i wrote a song to tell them, but i draft it, man, it’s never sent
all these -ssh0l-s acting like my life was always heaven sent
like i ain’t have to struggle every minute just to get respect
like i ain’t ever k!lled a cyph, ’til you can smell the scent of death
to be reminded that i’m white, like “p-ss the mic. yo, eminem..”
forgetting them, i’m moving on, like watch me spit though
told my friends when i first hit “yeah, i got the limos.”
and since i never lie, i must apply this f-cking formula
i can’t tell you how this’ll end, but, baby, pick a spoiler.

- puke king lyrics

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