H.W.R.D. - Melodic Brain Matter Lyrics

Son got a twisted tongue the witches love
Pull up on a rumba shoomzin
Ay girl what up
Verbal monsta
Will never sell my soul to get on
But
I might project my lines on the presidents Teleprompter
Pull up proper
Spitting something sick
Somebody get a doctor
Hes
Back at it again
All in ya biz
Like those meddling kids
Turn the studio into a smoking session
Smoldering messes getting left in the wake
What can I say
HOE!
My styles
It's excellent
Sometimes
I'm benevolent
My bitch look like maleficent
Your tracks actual excrement
Shit you not
Spit hook taw
Like that lama you pushed too far
What a quirky line
Yea I'm a quirky guy quiet and shy
Till you push the right button
Bump your head on something
Bump you at a red light
Then light you up Like the Russians

The albums coming don't rush it
Rum and coke in my cup When I wrote this
Roll one then rehearse it
Run it back till it's perfect
Payed for that session
Just to embarrass you
F*cking Worth it
Grab my cordless called assorted
Need a recording Stefan gon get it sorted out
Sifting through files and sound bytes
Fine tune till it sound just right
Third porridge like
Borderline
Madman throwing a fit again
Still
Smart for a simpleton
Flow cold as a winter wind
Cause shock and awh
Don't drop the ball recording with them
Inform his next of kin
Bud couldn't hack it Fell back in a forever nap
When he surpassed his lungs capacity
Moral of the story be
Don't try matching this smoke I breath
Eat sleep this
Y'all follow on some sheep shit
I follow sheep and eat it
Wear the wool to trap the heat in
Wear the skull for protecting what I believe in
Brandish the femur fur bashing a heathen
Mapping out the battlefield must be strategic
Mixing mushrooms in the mead
Swapping tales while the fire warms us
Nodding to the beat of war drum
You know this just a warm up