[ Featuring Max He, MIKE SUMMERS ]
Foreign look like Ayam Cemani when wings open and close
Cobra integument buffer between the pedal and toes
Through residential I'm slithering with grey matter exposed
The wind lend me serenity when it fit in the folds
Mojo Jojo if temperature start to get a lil cold
The heated seats throwing counter punches like Sugar Ray Leonard
Florida boy so you feel the tropics as soon as you enter
Turn it low, it's provoking Van Noten denim to render
Cook a steak on the fender
Solo taught me to wait till it's done to powder with pepper if I don't want it to blacken
The cuts imported, discreet escorted, don't ask for the tracking
Aroma tendrils envelop passerby drivers like kraken
I'm in South Beach with granules between my toes like Tinactin
Keep the ice out the water, the barracudas attacking
The life I'm getting accustomed to just a product of stacking
I ran out of excuses, I had to make something happen
Break a backend at Nisei or Momotaro
Sashimi otoro, chutoro, cleansing all of my sorrows
The soy sauce only an option if flavor need to be borrowed
Take chopstick and knock it down with no dip like Anthony Morrow from corner
Instrumental adorner
Producers send skeletons I just coat em with flesh
I transport the skin grafts inside the Margiela mesh
Leave out the laboratory I'm feeling refreshed
I thrive under pressure, I come alive when my safety net either torn or evicted
Back against wall turned me to something I never could've predicted
Wouldn't be surprised if my mom is in full control of my journey and how it's scripted
Every flow unencrypted, it's open source on my schema, I welcome niggas to copy and paste
I say this objectively, not an ounce of distaste
Whole buncha Chrysler 300s tryna go wheel-to-wheel with a Wraith
