Fuck that man who really wish he wasn't always what he said
'Cause I'm that man who always mean it, their demeanor really trash
Thrash around, I'm running circles round them, all around the track
I fuckin' dance upon a beat and swim, they sinking in the sand
Miracles I got mine, residue in my pipe
Feral ghoul, where my mind? Clear the room cause I might
Shoot the sheriff and try the deputy up on trial
He workin' under The Man, he workin under The Guy
Cynical and jaded, take it as a gift or as a curse
Don't mean to hurt ya baby, save it though, I'm really just the worst
Seen the underbelly, tell me what's the motives of a starving artist
How come all my motor functions goin' in reverse?
Acting natty as a bitch, can't buy into the charade
Top grade chick give me top like a toupee
Keep it like a buck, buttheads keep it too vague
Clawing out the grave bossman, but it's too late
Yeah! And the cold get colder
22 years, got a warhead on my shoulder
This one ain't a chip, Sisyphus type boulder
Ain't they say revenge is in the eye of the beholder? Yeah!
Cold-cold feeling, cold-cold feeling
Cold-cold feeling, cold-cold-cold-cold feeling
Cold-cold-cold-cold feeling, cold-cold-cold
Cold-cold-cold-cold feeling
Different day, same pattern
Thread of fate, brain scattered
A blind eye, a blind flatter
Keep 'em both, fuck the silver platter
I make that platter my ashtray
I take that rapper to ransom
Fuck off, that really my catchphrase
Fuck you, that really my anthem
Life stories, ripping out pages
With my hands, they callin' me handsome
Hand me that, I'mm takin ya respect
Respect this or freeze just like the rest
You know what the fuck is up
I'm making bread from all the bones inside these buttercups
Ain't no corny get up on me just to cover up
Could bag a duchess with these numbers that I'm putting up
Smoke the mandrake, smoke the-smoke the mandraka
Feel like P-Lo though with double rice at Benihana's
You got me P.O'd hoe, me eat the beat like Baba Yaga
Ya'll got me big confused with some dude who don't want no problem
Off the MacBook, macro bank roll
Think he MacBeth, make that Banquo
Wolf in sheep clothes, he don't wanna tango
They ain't see it coming, they ain't see the angle
Acting natty as a bitch, can't buy into the charade
Top grade chick give me top like a toupee
Keep it like a buck, buttheads keep it too vague
Clawing out the grave bossman, but it's too late
Yeah! And the cold get colder
22 years, got a warhead on my shoulder
This one ain't a chip, Sisyphus type boulder
Ain't they say revenge is in the eye of the beholder? Yeah!
Cold-cold feeling, cold-cold feeling
Cold-cold feeling, cold-cold-cold-cold feeling
Cold-cold-cold-cold feeling, cold-cold-cold
Cold-cold-cold-cold feeling
Cold-cold feeling, cold-cold feeling
Cold-cold feeling, cold-cold-cold-cold feeling
Cold-cold-cold-cold feeling, cold-cold-cold
Cold-cold-cold-cold feeling