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letra de fly in // fly out - no alias

[verse 1]
long lost soul who’s sole purpose is to inebriate
rep my state, and fornicate with blond b-tches who’s period late
oh, what’s fate when i’m faded?
oh, what’s a rambling mind to a rambling man who feels jaded?
by societies’ pressures, f-ck that, society thinks iphone precious
i’m talking run the jewels off the track
a misfitted, dumb-witted, quick-spittin’, c-nt-lickin’ pap
tryna get h-lla elevated off the rap
i see skies when i’m sky-high, my third eye open, potent the flow and the loud loud, shut your trap, live in the moment
with my bifocals lenses, i peep the omen, one and the same, no matter what they paying, rip wayne, just saying, i’m omnipotent
if you rich, you roll around in benz & benzes, i plan on getting rich and rollin round with blunts & bent whips
sorry, i meant a honda oddesy from ’06
or ’05, oh my, driving backwards like the 5-0
the maestro, of hidden lyricism in tombstones
paid two bones, to get a lick off a t-t who’s two-toned
i’m too stoned to rap seriously, just written off for delusional delivery
i stay ablaze, i got h-lla tree
a forest burn down, they come & look for me
so uh…….peace

[verse 2]
because it’s hard for someone who’s so unfocused
so misunderstood, point and laughed at from ford focus
still dope as dope-sellers, flirt game like ross geller
nothing will last forever, so is life an endeavor?
or a treasure to hold close to yr heart
if it ain’t art, then it ain’t sh-t to a fart
get that? as in, i make what i make
to solely create, not caring about yr opinion or hate
i’m just trying get h-lla famous, in my mind of course
possibly out there, but behind these closed doors
is untapped potential just waiting to glisten
these fake friends, they could never listen
i’m p-ssed but all will be forgiven
i mean, what’s a pen to a prison?

[verse 3]
im laughing while smoking a spliff and gaining wisdom
abandoning religion cuz my mind is like a prism
instead, it’s “what bosby believes in so quit your b-tchin'”, i’m spitting h-lla frieri cuz im freestylin in the kitchen
i’m itchin’ for a 40 ounce, lemme get to sippin
i’m really an “i don’t give a f-ck” kinda kid &, i’m coughin at the end of the spliff cuz it’s filled with h-lla risin, i’ve risen from the grave, and i’mma get to k!llin
illest of f-cking villains, eyeing up in da building
building up my supply & supplying the f-cking millions
guru of f-cking fiji, d-j upon the scratchy
ashy the doobie, po-po pursuing, dodgy the piggy
iggy pop, lit a stoogie, pardon all of da newbies
unforgiving & k!lling careers when they’d rather shoot me
hope i’m dug ‘fore im buried, life is just kinda scurry
holein up in the coop cuz i’m sly & ur murray
i’d send an sms text for a chance to recollect
i walk by sls and i’m instantly filled with regret
how could i forget that materialistic possessions ain’t sh-t?
and i’m standing right on the edge, so i guess time to go dip
swinging heavy -ss chains make me feel so reckless
a .44 or .45 categorized as stressors
and i’ve tried calling out to god or some predecessor
they don’t pick up the phone & i can’t leave a message

- no alias

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