___________ (THREE SIDED TAPE)

[Verse]

I guess it's not too late to find another niche (No)

Always wished I woulda died when I was 26 (Ah)

Laid up in the sheets with a honeydip

Not a worry in my mind cause I quit

Stressed raps and sounds that make pounds and props

Feelin' like I'm bound to these downtown blocks

I don't know nobody guwap'd up, I'm livin' in a trapped up in the city limits

Every minute, lots of shit I never finished

I don't even want a little smidgen

All these critics try to tell me my music is a shitty gimmick

Shit it, I'm just spitting for the fuck of spitting

I ain't worried about some idiots that caught up in the analytics

Never liked the limelight, never was compatible

Only press you gettin' outta Ugly is the lateral

People too concerned with strictly adding up their capital

But dollars are collapsible, so y'all ain't even rational

But just to keep my motives in the open;

Never wanted no exposure, never needed to be noticed

Never bothered with promotion, kept the photo out of focus

The mental state was humble, though the rhymes was braggadocious

Wandered with my hoodie up down narcissistic avenues

Vastly captivated, turnin' rappin' into stacking loot

But why pursue that gratitude if nothing is a absolute?

They aptitude is too acute to navigate my attributes (Yup)

But I'm way too impatient to wait for stupid vacant disgraces to wake

This the human race and y'all standing in place, it's a waste

It's the age of information and all the truth and all the lies

Are just there for the taking

The temporary and ancient, face it, you're basic

Safe and complacent, you’ll never escape it

Totally okay with being under surveillance

This is not praising the foil hats

Y'all are obvious monkeys, go crawl back to your bunkers

And boil rats for your lunches

Shit is too far out of your clutches

Your protests and disruptions just confuse all the dunces

Anyone with brain function already deduced all your hunches

The sky's blue bitch, give me newer assumptions

I'm in the Unabomber shack with a Buddha sack

'Cause the rap game's neutered and truly whack

'Cause rappers milk every last drop til' their hooters flat

Nursing off the same dead putrefied titty

I don't remember tellin' you that you could ride wit me