dumbdumb needs hope.(eatmorefruit)prod.dad hands

Published by oaky

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lyrics: truth is I wear big shirts to hide my bicep, truth is I wear big shirts cause I don't like violence, I'd rather be a dork kid, than talk stiff, always awkward with forty four rice paper forks lit, aw shit, notify the authors, the smoky archetype source pit, fights the flawless forces, equipped with the fresh corpse spit, yes i know that I'm horseshit. lean off the edge with one big bag packing, got seen messages, obscene preferences, not much lacking, what's ya action plan, or what makes ya faction stand, or are you with the leader when he says we gotta subtract man, the starving artist narcissist, tries to rap the smartest, when his mouth's plenty raw, nonstop till pennies soar, actively refraining from replaying past successes, instead memorising grandparents home addresses, you look hella dumb rapping bout designer material, that's a fabricated tag to show you're a no good imperial, I go bare chested, high fly my soul ethereal, sending a smoke signal to attract all beings near and cool, I’m liquid in this mixture, scribble up the scripture elixher, note it dribbles down the pitcher. one sip and I’m mister, bugging clown in perils of a budding frown, smothered in one hundred sounds, underground in a some dungeon gowns, fudging round, ya mother cupboards, singly like a scrub bird, nimbly and simply attain fifty lovers at the push of a button, only to malfunction into nothing discussions, fiery destruction, fussing and cussing at the pumpkin or spunk bin. feel like dying, on a day to day basis, really fake smiling, checking out the wages I just wanna cook a rhyme souffle, not watch time decay, learn to refine my mime of mine grenade, to save the whole brigade, but what it comes to, I’m a dumb dude, scrubbing the front tooth, to remove all lunch food, don’t push me into a punch mood, the moaning argonian lives at bottom of the ocean, vomiting out a word potion, herb toking till he’s floating, at the surface, nervous, what's really the purpose, its a worthless, distraction that wipes out the pencil, it's all indefensible, they say i need to be legible, but what is legible? how the fuck is one legible? these songs never achieve their goal, so I seek to dissolve, until the squeaks in my soul decide to resolve, unfold the arm and kept at my side but it still sways from time to time, regardless I was open, to any omens, alas where's the focus, fuck this hocus pocus. the man in the suit resembles hopeless ogres, yet his people put up all these wanted posters, what's that hypocrisy crushing thee, it's the mistaken honour of monopoly honestly, the problems be deep rooted, i only sleep zooted, recruited, in the ratty race, running at a fatty's pace, quickly booted into the pro leagues batting cage, and strike! and you're out, like the roach, get mad at the coach, but know, you embody burnt toast, no joke, don't climb the oak tree, if you think you owe me. climb the oak tree to invoke hope upon the lonely,

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