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letra de chop chop - winterhill

verse 1: winter hill

liberal ass rappers condone the theory but not the praxis
i hate that sh-t
like history ain’t a mess waiting to happen
the best remembered are known for adapting
the rest endeavor through honed interactions
invest in better alternatives for a brighter future
quantum energons, h-llo computer
in the year 3000, outlaws look outward
at glass that reflects bright greens and deep blues
back out thеre, praying something new answеrs
i’m back out there, preying on the few antlers
i can spot
like this frozen tundra yields nothing but smart moving targets
and tempts me with just dropped warm rot
seemingly stable, but age waits for us all
life my failed hunting trip, this my bait call
beats is my bird song
ears tuned to it
despite the gears cranking out smoke i can peer through it
industrialized customer/server mumbles morning, and walks past you
pours a glass of get us to the afternoon
prays for downcast
prepares to take a fast, of passion and happiness pursuing
then passes into the movements
passive as he, moves in place
treadmill grind, just saving to, save
obeying to obey
i don’t wanna be bored, relaying a new message
we oughta leap forward
step with the best of my essence
my car’s still a mess
clothes pile still impressive
no progress made on paper, no pen hit yet
but look what i’ve made i’m ready i made my bedding
and i’ve decided to pick stress over regretting
i still wanna search the endless heavens as an emcee
(horizons bending, entropy)
but my ship’s wrapped in vine and i don’t carry a machete
like chop chop

(hook)

verse 2: phil nile

most depressing float through life you’ve ever seen
unbroken like evergreens
dream but never reach even a split fraction of a percentage of achievement really needed
but my procrastination seem undefeated
my brain’s leaking out vents frequently
memory seeps through and leaves on breeze
i look at sleep like room to breathe
my room ain’t clean, my brain has gangrene
i feel like i can’t see, or well, i don’t believe i see
because my exterior feels like fake 3d
like i perceive a pov tv screen
and i cannot care about red blue and green
i’m worn through and flip between minutes of clearness and limitless strips of mind fog
i’m off, can’t explain why my foundation rattles and shakes
i know your understanding is fake
it’s late and my hands are idle
i sit in the spiral, am thrown in the vacuum
i don’t need accusations that i desperately wanna be a mental patient
the time bomb is set and waiting
i sweat off your denial and descend deeper
i know i get angry and recently we fight more
but in your vision my affliction is an eyesore
and i bring down your social value
sorry to throw that at you
(hook)

- winterhill

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