In My Town - Drapht, Mathas

In my town every butcher is the Sausage King

Every meat pie is award winnin'

But every win

Come passe with all your accolades on mass within the massive

I mean, yikes, mate, sentimental

Better settle, petal, leavin' all your crusts, but you still barely ate

Ego on a sandstorm, whippin' off slippers

They’re ruby red, doom and gloom broadcast in full effect, though

Started feelin' like it wasn’t earnt to rep on

Like awards I didn’t ask for was summarisin' my workflow

Like years that hammered the words home, couldn’t unclip the nerd bros

The herd coach, the old ropes to the new kids, say they so straight,

but they don’t though

This place for that new dope every new day

Till it’s old hat by the next week and a trend catch in the far east

In the right coast and it’s a no go 'cause it’s too numb, but you wave hands

«Look at me glow», till your style tired in your own eyes and your fire cease

Tongue callous stop the speak of peace, you really mean it, geeze?

Haven’t seen you once outside of meet and greets with slimy Pete

Gettin' your brand in action, fandom traction fluffin'

How’s that album bufferin'?

Pixelated as fuck

We’re few and far between and muffled by the leaders

Who stay winnin'

Coloured by the freedom and the features, the people in the bleachers

Who pay to see it

What they don’t see is, the paperwork we’re turfin'

And the panickin'

All the peasantries are shovelled out, yeah

Yeah, they’re shovelled out

See in my town

Everyone nods and smiles through a set of clenched teeth (Yep)

No patience in my West Wing, whole scene full of wrestlin'

Hulk Hogans and Ric Flairs, fake savages and hitmen

Fake nice to be gifted like kids writin' up a wishlist

But Father Christmas ain’t me, you’re Nelson when accosting

You only hit me when you want things and a free ride in the bus lane

Put your hand down, ain’t a handout, been ripped off like a Band-Aid

They take my blood, sweat, tears, put it in a frame, it’s theirs now

You only cared about the fame and the money in the bank, bang, bang, bang

'Nother knife in the back, triflin' act, all just a fun of big black

Ex machina, park in the back, try find a knife sharper than Jack

Ripper’s but you’ll find it hard to extract, heart in my chest, heart full of

gold

Half of them know, half of them don’t, let’s just pass by like some

Ships in the night, stick to my lane, like I had graffiti on my mind

See me on the rise, don’t hit my line, always climb Himalayas by myself

There’s no bluff, whole lotta heart with the cards I was dealt

We’re few and far between and muffled by the leaders

Who stay winnin'

Coloured by the freedom and the features, the people in the bleachers

Who pay to see it

What they don’t see is, the paperwork we’re turfin'

And the panickin'

All the peasantries are shovelled out, yeah (Shovelled out, shovelled out)

Yeah, they’re shovelled out (Shovelled out, shovelled out)

We’re few and far between and muffled by the leaders

Who stay winnin'

Coloured by the freedom and the features, the people in the bleachers

Who pay to see it

What they don’t see is, the paperwork we’re turfin'

And the panickin'

All the peasantries are shovelled out, yeah (Shovelled out, shovelled out)

Yeah, they’re shovelled out (Shovelled out, shovelled out)