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letra de don't do ecstasy unless you're fapping - west rhetoric

[verse 1: bedrock]
vsonic buds b-mping in my earholes
need to keep it crystal clear so i can memorize and hear bones spit
bryan cranston tap-dancing under the sea
godzilla clash with ghidorah, now it’s on in the streets, uh
rhymes like visine, to keep your eyes clean
blinded by the high-beams, miles of dry memes
clogging your twitter feed
ditch the mystery machine, got five flat tires, it’s on fire, stuffed with illegal weed
who needs to see fiends or plant seeds?
rather spit laser beams or grip a sick book to read
maybe that’s the reason for my unrequited peace sign, chill, i’ll be the bigger shiver crawling up the beast’s spine

black lunged son of a gunshot wound, his numb gums gnaw their way out a distraught womb
woke up ’round noon, to the croon of goons begging for west rhet’ tunes direct ‘em down to the tombs below
stoned with bones, in the catacombs crafting poems
alone in the chamber, but no macaulay culkin he choked on the artichoke we fed him left for dead with a pretend suicide note, cowrote by the denizens of dope

[verse 2: bones mcqueen]
feet walk through the molten core
i’m immature
i don’t give a fuck until i’m old as 44
drink four 40s down past my vocal chord
stole a porsche outta my neighbor’s open garage door
when he asked for it back i said i don’t know what you’re talking about
cussed him out like i had a cloud of wasps in my mouth
k!ller bees back on the move like an easterly wind
reaper type of disease, creature that appears with a grin
i’m the owl teacher, disembowel leeches, make ‘em eat some sour peaches with a pouch of powdered semen
how do you do?
or rather what the fuck do you want?
i’m busy huffing a tube of glue in the back of a wal-mart

asking shoppers for change to buy another elmer’s, if they tell me no i stick ‘em like some fly paper
shrines made of hair, stalker kid with a creepy stare, i throw you down a fucking flight of stairs
move upwards with lewd couplets
i’m a rude b-m who chucks poop chunks at new couples
true love is unreal, so i’m gonna give up fucking and become a monk, yo that’s a done deal
unhinged like shuttlec-cks
i create public shock when i walk out with nothing on but a pair of rubber crocs
grab a cup of coffee, eat a sandwich in the park, watching the joggers p-ssing by when i touch my junk

[sample from “mother of god, chill dude!”]

- west rhetoric

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