Yard Act

(Verse 1)

California high on the blazer, lazy trader

Purchase when I do, steal a favor

Hustlers gotta hustle til they famous

Unless you run into hookers, they bankin'

Easier to find ‘em in Vegas

Hunter S Thompson, full relation

Figured as much, bashed by a bunch

Brady tellin’ jokes, whole town got their wager

Damn Lisa when you wink, I get it

Fully turned on in a second, only known by your image

Fancy model with no credits

Schiffer captured with no linens, made outta Powerpuff pigment

Johnny Depp mindin’ his business, fuck wit him ya gotta get thru Tim Burton

We’ll be dead men walkin’, skeleton dance but it’s an orgy

Aye Disney knows it

They all virgins stuck in a closet, now the Mouse drivin’ to my house

Shotty on the belt, primary whipped out, & a stun for safe measure

The games became human nature

(Hook)

How nobody came to the graveyard?

Too early to lock it up

The ghosts are leaving the basement

At least according to Gaiman

There’s a bead of sweat on your forehead

Wipe it off and lay on the foam bed

Close the eyes, create a dream

While I set the mood lighting

Drifting away as I crawl from your legs

Turn it all off, we can get on (ah ah ah ah ah ah)

Woah

The heart beats slow

Freaky Friday show

With no windows

You bloom below

Aye, woah

Lyrics provided by LRCLIB