Style Boys - Shredders, Sims, P.O.S.

Danger, danger, fear and anger

I see dead people when I talk to strangers

Scar where the stomach stops

Gotta get these bundles off

Bubbles in the soft focus

Shark wearer, spy hunter, shank owner

Dank burner, no limit top of the tank turner

Spot earner, plot thickener

Fingerprints, rubber on the Glock, alibi non sequitur

It wasn’t like we weren’t cookin'

We just got hung up on which direction we were lookin'

Proof is in the puttin' up the art

Might’ve framed a couple more

But every story’s got its arc

In any case, that was somethin' for the grudge holders to

Adjudicate

Pushing this human race car 'til the fumes escape

Did some wrongs, made a few mistakes

But that’s for you to throw the book at

I was panicked by impermanence

Working on some pertinent

Missed it on the first pitch, now I see the curve spin

A little worse for wear

Bad flying bird in the turbulent air (ay)

I studied rhymes to let the mind unwind

Now I make the words for work

What a sweet high five, pardon him

The heart got caught up in the nouns and verbs

The marketing seemed absurd

What part of parsin' a person apart for productin'

Made a truer self, when you knew the sell was the artifice?

I spot a fake and dissect it

The place is feeling like the Brexit

Came with a warning, home feeling foreign right now

The white sheets sleeping in the White House

Feed filled with personal brands

I got a few new demands

A rag and a gas can, damn he’s at it again

The language

The paint

The sanguine

Bad to the marrow in the pan, crunch bones

Sad boys get the grown man hush tones

Back hand flushed in they lame face

Save for the high five placed in the same place

No starts, no hearts neither

Serve up severe, steer clear of the theater

Accidentally fall for every real one

Casually lost when each one steals one

Zelda with the half a heart

Controller died before the level up had settled in

So when I try to boost and measure up I never win

Character stay blinkin'

Tryna get a handle what these baddies might be thinkin'

But I don’t care, really I couldn’t spare a neuron

Tossing brain cells at a peak of what’s beyond maybe

But not y’all, prolly nothin' of the sort

Rather rock a box a nails and

Hammer up a sturdy tree fort like home

The language

The paint

The sanguine

Amped in the basement

Camped in a place where the station is sacred

Dialed in, tuned up, ready

Dialed in, tuned up, ready, yeah

Practiced and patient

Stamped with a seal, it’s the real, no replacement

Dialed in, tuned up, ready

Dialed in, tuned up, ready to go

Amped in the basement

Camped in a place where the station is sacred

Dialed in, tuned up, ready

Dialed in, tuned up, ready, yeah

Practiced and patient

Stamped with a seal, it’s the real, no replacement

Dialed in, tuned up, ready

Dialed in, tuned up, ready to go