8/22

[Verse]

My stomach finally settled

Niggas pressed I ain't meeting 'em on they level

Heated, they water tepid

Riding disheveled and seedy, we turn they crops into embers

The spark is central

The needle without the thread, bleeding 'em

Weave and weasel out of the clenches

Speaking in part to Death and the pieces of God that's living

Bottle resentmеnt like Essentia

And feel the fisticuffs, comе get a triple cup, I'm not a sipper

I'm Mr. To-The-Neck, zip him up, simple

Without a singular shred of doubt or despair

The silver clouds meant the drought would end

This how we dreamt about in crowded dens

Thirty thousand spliff scent around the councilmen

Big fluid on the powder keg

Boomin' in the here and now

Audermars Piguets and Cartier lenses now, the vision clear

You know what time it is