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ubi - the quill lyrics

[intro]
i didn’t feel anything, uhh
i feel fine
i don’t feel tired
i-is this real life?

[verse 1: ubiquitous]
yeah, this is real when i dip the quill, blood fit to spill
was content to just sit and chill
but now my head blown up like mr. bill
i don’t flip my image just to fit the bill
or get with gimmicks that the kids will feel
a couple of face tattoos with a cup of lean
tri colored hair with prescription pills
at the pharmacy where kids get the blues
on my carter iii tryna get the views
if this tune don’t fit your groove
i’m sure cardi b got the hits for you
pardon me if how big i grew makes it hard to see
i eclipse your view
wouldn’t spend your muse if the party scene was a centrifuge
i been sent to you with a
message of impending doom
when i’m riding through on my paul revere
in love and warfare all is fair
at high noon you’ll die, now say all your prayers
dollar daredevil balling there
u-b-i with the palmer squares
you’d lose your mind in the hall of mirrors
i’d just use the time to play solitaire
upper tier, yeah we right there
you could see my flare when i shoot the sky
when two divide my vibe unified
like a shiite cleric with a sunni tribe
true to life, why dispute the lie
we might stare at your cutie pie
if i listen close when you play your song
that don’t mean i care for what you describe
p-ss the flower, roll up nug in the after hour
when they close the club, holding bud ’cause i know the plug
but when they ask around, i’m like shoulder shrug
then we pour up cups, half the time i don’t know what’s what
spun the globe, now they show us love
i don’t show a buzz, i just throw up dubs
y’all know what’s up

[verse 2: ac-mental]
i run from oakland to buffalo on a bumpy road to my bungalow
hustle float then i puff a bowl
going up in smoke like the oven broke
out of sight, hubble scope
you won’t see me, that’s rubber sole
jumping over another foe on a bungee rope in the thunder dome
able-bodied, i take karate
sweep the leg like my name was johnny
ichiban when i speak a rhyme
but the people wanna keep hating on me
got a predilection for teaching lessons
egocentric, i need attention
each and every release i bless
is a feed the press never seems to mention
been scr-ping the bottom barrel
cape fear and i’m bob de niro
american outlaw, colin farrell
finna drop it on ’em like a bombardero
godd-mn, it’s the return of the fly
a mystic misfit burning alive
on point like a surgical knife
avert your eyes, say word to the wise
you could find ac pantomiming
even if you tie both hands behind him
can’t lie, i’m a tad bit shy but i move fast forward and rewindin’
it’s all part of the grand design
mastermind with an ax to grind
you cats are way past your prime
it’s asinine how we rap just to p-ss the time
woke up in an opium den
rolled outta bed and i’m already spent
it gets hard to be jovial
when you become everything that you’ve grown to resent
i’ve never been slow
ready to go like i’m holding a rodeo bull and a pen
every show is a global event at the podium over and over again

[verse 3: terminal knowledge]
get your hands high (hands up)
one time for the disenfranchised (one time)
two times for the capsized ships (two times)
finna cram my d-ck in your b-tch’s backside
i’m underrated, run the race with prosthetic legs
don’t ever question my f-cking greatness
texas chainsaw, shred the face off your severed head
back on top, high like an astronaut and not not just blasting off
foam at the mouth like a rabid dog
a soldier without any camouflage
i’m an open target, jump street, broken-hearted
one seed grows the garden
i know that you know what i spoke and recorded
and skin is the stone that it’s carved in
row, row, rowin’ your boat
sink your t–th in and hope that it floats
smoke a carton through a hole in my throat
live for the weak and alone so long as you’re meeting your quota
recidivistic, a bit s-d-stic, a minor detail, a big statistic
a sick and twisted, religious mystic
find a female to hit the skins with
sock it to ya, hallelujah, knock ’em dead, plot revenge
montezuma, i really am through with this sh-t
6-6-6, privy to lucifer’s tricks
making me nauseous, spewing at this
aim at the target and shoot to the clip
soon to be l!cking the wounds
truth is, i’d be stupid to loosen my grip
usually rhyme when i talk man
used to get by with a walkman
any sudden movement, it skips
you see a shoe and -ssume that it fits
do you what cain did to abel, making it painful
scooping your brains with a ladle, yuck
what are you making excuses?
shut up and take the abuses
term

- ubi lyrics

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