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smyth - know escape / raf & wynnerlude lyrics

too artsy for sport kids, too sporty for art cliques
soul swimmin pretty but my brain reportin shark fins
smoked so much gr-ss i got panic attacks
she was justified in cheatin on my cancerous -ss
still mad antsy from the voices in my head
still plaid pantry for my poison til i’m dead
might take til then for cats to catch my neat bars
but any industry pig can get a whiff of my sneak farts
these odds, unevenly propitious
for a white-cis-het male who won’t call women
i insta post woke quotes ensuring the data hittem
as my toes soak in performative activism
haunted by the ghost of my unused vacuum
rap tunes, half truths, know me better than dad do
zone really often, got some holes in my conscious
but my pullout game strong… for the phone in my pocket

ain’t know escape, ain’t know escape
superhero cavemen here to save the day
man there ain’t know escape, ain’t know escape
from the depths of the playpen up to outer space
man there ain’t know escape, ain’t know escape
superhero cavemen here to save the day
said there ain’t know escape, ain’t know escape
from the depths of the playpen up to outer space

imma grafitti my impotence on the walls of china
paint my fingers blue on this rocketship recliner
entwine with the sinkhole that’s in this parchment
fist fight with my ego that’s determined to make cars flip
barge in a room with no garment farting whole heartedly
towards any starving rapper charging 20 for a tee
pardon me dude i am peeved and jealous
cause i am unrealized potential, no punchline and all premise
sheerly negligent with weird days of decadence
my head filled with petty tendencies, pessimistic ‘potheses
like i don’t trust a vegetarian that don’t like avocado
i think outer belly b-ttons should never embrace bravado
i’m sustained by mixtapes semantically expressed in mixtapes
my pants slim straight though my -ss a fixed gape
lip stained by dang douches and shitty-prepared fruit juices
truly too loosy-goose, ain’t know escapin these excuses

the first thing i notice in the attic is always those
what are those skateboard shoes you have
the janoskis, the janoskis the beat to death
the beat to death, the gums are off
there’s a hole, this man has a hole between his heel and his sole
i don’t feel like i can freestyle fully til i’m in the attic with the janoskis
oh really? no my favorite
is like the autographed signed wall with all these records
or the crampedness and it’s super hot
in the attic it’s like a hundred degrees up there
honestly, the night that we sat back and played
pajama sam and ssx tricky for like four or five hours
yeah
and the thing goes out it goes, blooo oooh oooh
hahahaha
you sound like patrick doing the leee-oh-lee-oh-leee
haaa i’m looking it up what’s the name of those games
lee-oh-lee-oh-leeee
hahaha

- smyth lyrics

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