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letra de water chestnuts (mick jenkins remix) - the thought

[intro]
remember, i did this too, on food for thought?
it’s like a throwback!
blaqknoiz
yo, alright

[hook]
oh now no patience?
did it rustle your jimmies? my hating on complacence?
did it ruffle your feathers? my flaking on the fake sh-t?
did it ruffle your ridges? my take on the basics?

[verse]
not one for taking samples, going back and getting seconds
but y’all wasted my ammo, no flow, understated lessons
so much hate, no contesting, shows coming steady, blessings
ain’t falling in my lap though, my brethren, i been stressing
my room a mess, breath going in and out of tubes
no rubix rube, 21 questions, out of lube
no vaseline, as cube would say, thought didn’t chew his food
like back in the day, he was rolling doobs filled with p-b-s
placing prayers to the tube, c0ked-out on sugar fluff
racing razers to be rude, mourning all the b-tt stuff
brace bayers, see too-torn, i joke now, so what?
two-face or substance? vote out the water chestnuts
take 2019, you won’t cut out his performance
drank plenty of lean, ain’t now cut out for a chorus
you just gotta catch the reference to the gods been here before us
go study the reverends, not just the deformed mess
i always used to miss, now i bring it more like this
’cause you lazy, no-rhyme, whack–ss singers infiltrated sh-t
even edge-lords from england think y’all just taking the p-ss
go ahead, hit me up, i’ll ringer these olympics, b-tch

[hook]
oh now no patience?
did it rustle your jimmies? my hating on complacence?
did it ruffle your feathers? my flaking on the fake sh-t?
did it ruffle your ridges? my take on the basics?

[verse]
used to rock asics, broke my feet, needed new balance
used to play b-ss, went broke, but check these new talents
spent my youth a ship, emptied all my decks of ballast
no palace or chalice for the callous atheistic malice
wrote ballads just to get my phallus… hedonistic
measured ballistics, got my -ss out of the patristic
dove into animalistics, and found i wasn’t gifted
the town toast turned hermit to naturalistic
the super cali, casual mystic, wrecks thee halitosis (yawn)
no uber alleys, gravel, distant heckles over hostess (fawn)
this dawning ain’t of dead or devils, no roaches (sp-wn)
the fake-woke waking to awareness of your con
tsk-tsk
f-ck the con man
yeah, f-ck the con man
coming live from the 909, one time
it’s that vibe, yo

- the thought

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