lirik lagu chino xl - sepia selfies from the last supper
[intro]
yo this where we at
yo romes, man, mad candles lit
we doin’ this again?
yo hack, what up?
yeah, let’s go in
[verse]
i promise you, no matter how much you hate me, i hate me more
verses with movie level content, concepts should be released by a24
there’s some places i’m adored, for the words that i’m formin’
i’m so ahead of my time i built the very hospital ward i was physically born in
hi dirty mirror, i’m feelin’ less than nothing when i’m lookin’ at you
paleontologists diggin’ up all the bones that a scorched earth can possibly manufacture
given a hairline fracture, paradigm of rapture, purple houses, the airliner rupture
combined with a rare mind in perpetual prime, put me in the ‘greatest of all time’ bracket
you’re spineless and plastic, i promise that it’s spastic i’ve crafted
with a viral [?] a pineal gland elastic
sketchin’ a nephilim into ethereal magic
material scattered into an eerie, old, tattered cabin, i’m a cro~magnon in a beauty pageant
chino’s feral flow is guano, that’s the scientifical term for batsh~t
in this cave it took time to bear fruit
now i’m gonna get subpoena’d for being dressed this fresh, call it a civil suit
i’m spinning linen like i was in a pyramid center when language was invented
in the studio in italy, venice with balthazar romes, even the mixing board is weed scented
i admit it that i’m a little bit a midget k!ller, i use the galaxy as my fidget spinner
’cause it’s boring rhyming this calculus glitter to all the kindergarten partial [?] spared n~ggas
your illiterate album is kardashian, face filled up with false fillers
i’m jesus taking selfies at the last supper, please recognize the true and livin’
disgruntled off and met an awkward loss but i found myself often
fighting the urge to tell people to shut the f~ck up even when they are not talkin’
i’ve always stated that content~wise i’m a sensitive maniac
my whole style got swiped like any broke n~gga’s entire life on every dating app
warped ambiance, i’m swimmin’ in this indica and ambiens
acquaintances that have asked me to slow down my drug experiments
we are no longer even former friends
chest pains got me restrained to this light flashin’ ambulance
camera lens zoomin’ in the panavision, the f~ckin’ doctors ain’t even washed their hands
inhalin’ the scenario, why is it like this, yo? i really don’t know
but if pain was a person i would’ve for certain k!lled them or hurt ’em a long time ago
i lost my spirit in the darkness, i’m tryna get it back
immersed in this sp~ce where the righteous and talented person always seems cursed and finishin’ last
i’m bleedin’ an ancient, sacred hatred, you can save it and put it in vials
my work is revenge for every vacant lie that’s ever been told to a child
look at hands that are idle, i’m feeling suicidal
my rhyme releases are vital, but follow that lauryn hill model
wild, unpleasant and always late on arrival
i be spilling my truest self all over the music for the crudest budget
question: would it blow up if i actually k!lled myself doin’ a recordin’ of it?
wordplay for plane crash: my death a blessin’ in disguise
most of the time the two gifts i don’t wanna open up are my f~ckin’ eyes
(my f~ckin’ eyes, n~gga)
[outro]
feel like i’m screamin’ with my mouth covered
(these are selfies from the last supper)
scenes of my younger self hidin’ with my wrist cut up
(selfies from the last supper)
i’m claustrophobic and i’m bein’ smothered
(no flash please, selfies from the last supper)
i left my leakin’ heart inside my notebook
(i’m takin’ selfies at the last supper)
(save me!)
[chorus]
my flesh is the table, my rhymes are the gospel, we suffer
in death and betrayal my grief feelin’ fatal, my brother
my pen is the chalice, my pain in salvation we under
trial of judas, the sorrow influenced my mother
the breaking of bread the last time, love and fellowship’s over
the ink is the blood, song and scripture that’s bringing us closer
the tears of the desert, redemption for derek barbosa
ghostwriting the suicide note for kobain on his sofa
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