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lirik lagu proper channels x khromethesia - lord of the flies

[bon mot]

look around my room at all the sh-t i don’t need
stand in the mirror, watch myself smoke weed
addict’s personality
making tragedies of everything that never had a reason to matter
see i could give a f-ck then fill a cup
been tryna come up with another way to say i’m still drunk
i’m stressing, all the sh-t that’s been off my chest
if i kept it bottled up i’d end up throttled by myself
y’all ain’t heard a weirder way to commit suicide
not auto erotic asphyxiation because i wouldn’t hide
in the open with a noose around my neck
make you freeze in your seats like medusas on the deck
or scream “call police because i’m pretty sure he’s dead”
please take it easy the kings still got his head
like “oh f-ck what’s that,” i duck the dunce cap
hop in with sh-t only fools been known to run back

got my own lunch sack, dutch masts steering me in the direction of lessons once sn-tched
from the smartest minds, i’m starting rhymes on someone else’s
call it inspiration, call it ballin for my health kid
i ain’t got no money, funny how the tables turn
once upon a time i lit a benjamin to watch it burn
but didn’t spark the blunt, it’s in the microwave
pulling stunts, climbing trees, but this ain’t a game or childish
avoid me when i’m rhyming, if i am i’m drunk as p-ss and n0body got time for this
bust through a written, followed up by a cappella off the dome
you should know to try to stop me never
if you do i cut you off
like when my spliff is soft
gotta cook it, dry it
stupid rhyming’s how my hits are dropped
point is what he misses
still been know to grab one
you’re on the wall buzzin probably buggin just from listening

lord of the flies, i speak my mind until the conch is pulled
consciously trying to be as honest as possible
drop mock truth to try to shock youth
y’all just acting more p-ssy than a jock pull
in the ride i’m shining, rhyming to laugh more
too busy coughing trichomes at a dashboard
“where’s the gar? the charger?” hardly nothing else to ask for
smiling at high fives, i’ll roll one up and p-ss four
“who the sack for?” i ask through cracked doors
slam it shut and k!ll the bowl just to pack more
“who could snap more?” me, with two gs
you’re p-ssing out but i’m breaking out the good weed
you like “i can’t move b”, i’m like “it’s all groovy
just relax and grab the snacks i’m poppin in a movie
you’ve been yapping since half past the hour we spent looking at a map laughing our -sses off
dude you’ll lose me”
we could hit pause on the coughing for spitting
clean the bong in the tub, never done the dishes
sit back with a snap packed by the mrs
reflect on the point of the hook my homie’s fishin’ with
i love the ganja, i just want to get high
get by with time wasted, chasing drinks with rhymes
waste youth in a booth that isn’t mine

guess i’ll do it if it’s all for jokes huh
fluidly ruin a cypher, guess that’s what i’m known for
grab the mic and start acting like i know something
sho nuff, i probably never should have shown up
type of kid to trip, quit, fl!ck a quick cool-dad
you the type of dude who don’t skip through youtube ads
zoom past rude–ss, harping since a moon p-ssed
in the bar barfing in the dark like a zubat
n0body wanna see that, i mean that, yes really
one pump chumps is presumptuous, feel me?
you’re in the car starving, i’m bored in the store stealing
it’s hard to play your cards right when i’m the one dealing
i could be the master of your fate, it ain’t hard to plan
a late great lame with a fake farmers tan
i’m a lot of things, trash and the garbage can
slip me fifty just to barter for the bargain man

i’m the cream of the crop
in the mix stirring sh-t then i guzzle the pot
no haste, i hate when it’s hot
heard y’all must have forgot
bon mot is the cream of the crop
bon mot is the cream of the crop
in the mix stirring sh-t then i guzzle the pot
no haste, i hate when it’s hot heard y’all must have forgot
bon mot is the cream of the crop

so how’s this work? ask politely for a turn
or get p-ssed up by a wack b-st-rd half-rapping a verse?
flashback to the he-rs-, can’t reverse how your life has p-ssed
in the kitchen chugging wine by the pint gl-ss
you get dressed and always miss a few belt loops
you’re at your 9 to 5 reading self help books
soups gone cold, could match your soul perfectly
i get pat on the back when i’m choking: hercules
never numb neanderthals actin like savages
poppin red pills still asking who the rabbit is
hating homies had to hush cause he ain’t having it
hate to call your bluff but i’m a camera, to a magic trick
you’re bragging bout a bag of gr-ss you couldn’t even auction off
my homies rolling weed loud as me talking dog
lifting like a nordic, i’m h–rding this phenomenon
imma get big as f-ck, meet me in the octagon

knotted, not cropped knowledge from my pocket
replaces fakers promises and shakes away the cobwebs
brushes off the dust so i could fuss about the profits
of machines brain cleaning cogs keeping them unconscious
so i’ll drop in to speed up the process
to have caught me’s gotta be the dream of some cops
never freeze when they shout “please stop the nonsense”
off the couch, hide a bong in the closet
weak stomachs drop because i ain’t cleaned it since i bought it
yearning for the burn i guess that i just learned and fought it
d-ck pigs nauseous leaves sick kids cautious
oh what timing, could be rhyming in between the fits of coughing
drink sloshing if you pour another shot it
flow sloppy like the ink out the docs pen
bon mot swaps quaps of crop for the guap then
brings lames to the stage cuz it’s my chopping block
hens heads lopped off, chickens ain’t been producing
all the hits that, well sh-t, only they say they used to
always pray they’re playing when they’re saying did i lose you
ain’t getting on stage hate spitting with sh-t to prove but
i’ll stay to dance and shake your hand congratulations
fastest way to get away without retaliation
nothing fresh bout wasted breath, claiming that they rap wrong
i’ll blast, dab, pack, snap, laugh, and get my snack on

- lirik lagu proper channels x khromethesia

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