Bookhead

[Verse] The lust that sold the story, grodier than Mr. Crowley For those embarrassed to know holier than thou or moley habits Paris to the Gobi, bring 'em up to speed slowly On the low key, Kindles is phony D Tastes stale – see the words in shades of grayscale Right there in black-and-white, protected by chain mail Today's the day, made your way to see your sister’n’um Took my little mens with her, told her loved 'em, kissed-ed him These oversensitive youngins is on some new stuff Can't sit still and focus, the time it take to do enough From the mean streets of the "Can I get a dollar, dude?" Above measure, the singular pleasure of solitude It's your poison, if you so choose, absorb it Veins to the brain, shoot off into orbit How you know octagon? Or much less tetragrammaton? To get the good stuff, you gotta get out to the Amazon With any luck, you might just score locally Keep it on the hush when you speakin' on it vocally Then you gotta be on the in, a known member I think I still owe him little somethin' since November, whatever Who need credit when cash speak? Get it – sweatin', sittin' on his package since last week We all got weaknesses, even the functionin' dead Some will end up fudgin' numbers, buggin' and lunchin' instead Netflix in the head Second best trick to get chicks into bed [Outro] Uh, I’ve been hit, I’ve been Uh, I’ve been hit, I’ve been Uh, I’ve been hit, I’ve been Uh, I’ve been hit, I’ve been Uh, I’ve been hit, I’ve been Uh, I’ve been hit, I’ve been