afro futurism

Esoteric, generic Zombie chasin' a carrot, a ferret on solid ground Remembers a hound dog, don't bark at the sun This a dog-eat-dog world, she got family to hunt It's that time of the month Blunt, bitches and booze, I could smoke on a good mood You could squabble in the comments, bitch You are a comet Orbit 'round me, let my sun shine on you Third degree, the burn sting, don't say I ain't warned you, nigga I'm sendin' little books to little bears Money on the commissaire, solitaire Mimicking a home The phone is a shotgun, the mailbox a possum My letters play dead as they watch from the stockroom What's a costume party with no kids? A bundle of night sticks, a huddle of grown men Chest heavy, breathin' like they god Uh, slow demented No incentive to ask, pretence so, so temptin' To add sentence to sentence This verse could wrong one three fifths a human New cats that did ten, too black to not fend For they life, tightrope the matrix 'til we die The sky says I'm still alive The sky says I'm still alive The sky says we're still alive First I stayed on the island for like a few months, blah-blah-blah, processin' Went to the box, I love the box The box, I love the box on the island I ain't had to deal with none of them fake niggas Everybody you locked up with was a gangsta, and they was gettin' it And everybody innocent How you could be gettin' it and innocent at the same time? Oh, my god So, then I went to the box, and I was by myself And I was like, "This is great," you know what I'm sayin'?