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letra de windscroll/the quickdraw - jak tripper

[intro]
the vice of death

what up, yeah, yo, aoi, children of the sun, yo, i got heat rock, brimrock, supercoven, work, jak tripper, fonzarelli black, word

[verse 1]
this is beach boys sh-t, wagoneer with jesus racked to it (hahaha)
sick g*nius at this, g*nius claviset
hi, i’m jak if we have a net (uh? uhh)
i rap for the jacks and checks
hobbies include abductin’ young dudes and skin the backs of them (hahaha)
acid strength, had me drunk off blood ravenous
havin’ flesh spottin’ at the gauze on my abdomen
lost in a cyanide desert eatin’ mana and tablet x
lookin’ at my city from fire escapes on manhattan steps
everybody clappin’ tecs, i’m psychoactive drenched
followin’ a half-naked indian to a temple walkin’ up aztec steps
cactus head, just finished my last track holdin’ a magnum stressed
about to cash it in
dagger the children, sell nightmares and crack to them (yeah)
i’m at the bottom with a holy net, tryna catch cash and ness
supercoven, i’m the acid baptist wet (yeah)

[interlude]
hahahahahahahahahahahaha, (?), stay forever, stay forever!
[verse 2]
i annihilate the next to rhyme
you smoke that piff, you extra high (yeah)
i puff that piff too!
dips too ’til i lose my sense of time, 6 blues
dexcedrin reds and whites, i crush set up lines
all i see is s-x, flex, full time raps of pathetic rhymes
you should have studied what my levels of stress was like
i went in with two met sl-ts
left one, that’s why i usually read one night
my edge ups mess up lines
bathtub scenes messed up
mom and dad dead, dragged out the beds at night
held up bright toddler’s heads wedged in ice
then go to the studio wipin’ off sweat, i’m fine (what?)
sketchin’ like i’m pressed for time

[interlude]
music puzzles, that’s-that’s how it looks, everything’s in shapes and colors and, slaps in a way…

[verse 3]
yo, if your girl clappin’ with no hands
i choked her (come here) and the p-ssy pop (b-tch)
you ballooned up p-ssies pop
my two piece’s like pins in a cushion, once i pull it pop
i’ll empty a whole bullet box
in your face and make yo’ hood amok
stab you in the chest with my left, right hand holdin’ it back like it wouldn’t stop (hold on, hold on)
my fam down like crooked cops (peace)
peace to those 9 to 5 pushin’ clocks
pops to feds and swat
pushin’ and cookin’ rocks
anarchy like black flag on a full pit mosh
set fire for those dwellin’ upstate in the city grid systems to brooklyn lots
i rap negative sh-t you don’t wanna look at (wow)
this is for nomads, black robe with hoods on top
slit wrists that took the ox
forearms with cigarette burns
homeless poets, and those that wouldn’t watch (come on, man)
got shook, took a glock
and decided to clean out their own, wooden clock
this is a megalodon f-ck you (f-ck you!) to the industry, bullsh-t props
my industry like animal shortenin’, slaughterin’ the woolen flock
i speak to the misunderstood
some of my followin’ got arms, with bf good rich clots (what?)
more tracks than i couldn’t drop, it’s all good (it’s all good)
i drop liquid acid on sugar blocks
i leave sets trashed like, meshuggah rats
battlin’, average hamilton rappers that need to wear a mask, after i push in tops
i’ll mush your moms
i’m h-llsent, no good for god
rope contaminated cushion, rip pages tore, from the book of psalms
i beat hipsters and jump kids (haha)
rappin’ that look like, they couldn’t guff
f-ck this sh-t, after i write this book, i’m gone (i’m out)
but i should drive off a cliff, after this hook is dropped
a scrawny cat
i’ll duck tape two sawed-offs together, let the mossberg blast (blah!)
knock you on your back, and spin your car door close like a laundromat
[outro]
we gettin’ high, you know

- jak tripper

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