Themselves - Free & Void lyrics
[Themselves - Free & Void lyrics]
You will never be lucked in this world boy
So sadly picked for a thick fitting of silk
Bathed in brandy
Then dried to perfection in the six
Month width of Alaskan sun
So you might won, so you might win
Worlds over effortlessly, nah boy
You will be shown how to
Work the crank that turns
The streets to face the rich
And just reflect them
And if fools can have songs
About nothing but wealth
Damned if I’m a not sick whole
Sonnets on death to ring
A needle width a light out
Of the dark I crept
And for those who slept fuck em now I know
Exactly which way I oughta be sending the
Wolves when we meet, cause I have had my
Fill, of seeing this flesh hit teeth
It’s like me calling blood back to the
Front of my cuts, to do what, to wear
Pants to wipe blood, to cut luck, to…not
Walk and sleep at the same time
I think of paper thin wounds
And mile long lines
"rapping4money" feat…why?
This is for them young male
Lyrical perps who want to
Enter the squared circle with
An old pale urkle
Working Birkenstocks with socks kid
But still pull all the lurking
Working girls and hot chicks
Gold watch on your wrist all pissed watching
Me fold any chance you might of
Had a a tryst like what’s this, hey
Kids this songs not for profit's
Like all but locust honey long
Walking and god is
Or it is and that’s funny
To be rapping for money, so which
Is or which isn’t it, if
It ain’t dick to make
I’ll rock my fake batch of syphilis
Which is strictly for pity
But boy it ain’t pretty the pho rash on my
Breast plate, I’d ask if this pays, but
Upper class and rich say broach
No cash on a mix tape it’s
Goash and that shows distaste
My good tongue displaced replaced by
A hood one like men
And mice is in these times of economic crisis
This is for them young male
Lyrical perps who volley
Aimless and anxious tween unwell
Women and works
With a less than rent to they merc
And an ant on they shirt ain’t nothing perf
Cept for death vertex and pre-Cambrian earth
But that depends, why wouldn’t it
On the caliber of your friends
And weather you garden lightly in
The feeding of men where kids had did sing
Songs not for profit's like all but locust
Honey long walking and god is
Or it is and that’s funny
Like rapping for money
So which is or which isn’t it
You flashing flint for a tongue
Hair a choir of wicks that’s lit
Or just like your sedatives sung
And a derivative hip
Shit, I prefer my bezels a
Bundle of dysfunction and thunder
Their poems bones a certain
Something to cover
Ain’t a more significant others with which
I’d rather fail a mother
As each our own proverbial
Suns, our good tongues, replaced by
Hood ones, and then spun, where mics is hung
In these times of crisis
So sadly picked for a thick fitting of silk
Bathed in brandy
Then dried to perfection in the six
Month width of Alaskan sun
So you might won, so you might win
Worlds over effortlessly, nah boy
You will be shown how to
Work the crank that turns
The streets to face the rich
And just reflect them
And if fools can have songs
About nothing but wealth
Damned if I’m a not sick whole
Sonnets on death to ring
A needle width a light out
Of the dark I crept
And for those who slept fuck em now I know
Exactly which way I oughta be sending the
Wolves when we meet, cause I have had my
Fill, of seeing this flesh hit teeth
It’s like me calling blood back to the
Front of my cuts, to do what, to wear
Pants to wipe blood, to cut luck, to…not
Walk and sleep at the same time
I think of paper thin wounds
And mile long lines
"rapping4money" feat…why?
This is for them young male
Lyrical perps who want to
Enter the squared circle with
An old pale urkle
Working Birkenstocks with socks kid
But still pull all the lurking
Working girls and hot chicks
Gold watch on your wrist all pissed watching
Me fold any chance you might of
Had a a tryst like what’s this, hey
Kids this songs not for profit's
Like all but locust honey long
Walking and god is
Or it is and that’s funny
To be rapping for money, so which
Is or which isn’t it, if
It ain’t dick to make
I’ll rock my fake batch of syphilis
Which is strictly for pity
But boy it ain’t pretty the pho rash on my
Breast plate, I’d ask if this pays, but
Upper class and rich say broach
No cash on a mix tape it’s
Goash and that shows distaste
My good tongue displaced replaced by
A hood one like men
And mice is in these times of economic crisis
This is for them young male
Lyrical perps who volley
Aimless and anxious tween unwell
Women and works
With a less than rent to they merc
And an ant on they shirt ain’t nothing perf
Cept for death vertex and pre-Cambrian earth
But that depends, why wouldn’t it
On the caliber of your friends
And weather you garden lightly in
The feeding of men where kids had did sing
Songs not for profit's like all but locust
Honey long walking and god is
Or it is and that’s funny
Like rapping for money
So which is or which isn’t it
You flashing flint for a tongue
Hair a choir of wicks that’s lit
Or just like your sedatives sung
And a derivative hip
Shit, I prefer my bezels a
Bundle of dysfunction and thunder
Their poems bones a certain
Something to cover
Ain’t a more significant others with which
I’d rather fail a mother
As each our own proverbial
Suns, our good tongues, replaced by
Hood ones, and then spun, where mics is hung
In these times of crisis