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