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Grime 38^)

by Requiem Inc.

on THIS IS A CULT. (2019)

[Sample; Douglas M Levinson]
"Who are you?
You miserable, presumptuous, no talent!
You're no artist, an artist respects the silence which serves as the foundation of creativity"

[Verse 1: Bob Botanist]
They don't care for the state of my boys
Antarctica, move to Illinois
Now they can't shoot none if fire don't rain
Alexa, play "God's Plan" and drop me off in the void
I'm with a heffer
My Umbrella Corps finna raise my corpse
Growin' pains, pistol whip myself
My brain don't hurt no more
Burning finger, got a Gundam, landed it in Putnam
Finna take my yucca, but first I'll hit New York
This Kombucha got me litty, but I never been a sucker
But still got the rah-rah, and somehow like busta
Plant it on a frat boy, I'm coming for that trust fund
Rap like I never lived a day out the gutter
And I already told you 'bout the precip
Big glaive, but I think I'm with the pre sip
You ain't eatin', take this ether
You can't stay rich forever if we always stay scheming

[Chorus: Ryan Leahan]
Clocking shifts with no pay
Jump on ship, no you ain't
Choppy tides wash away
Those who feign for the fame
Crown my cup, fuck you think?
Worked for this, so I drink
Grimy leech call my name
Wash you all down the drain
I'll wash you all down the drain, the drain, woah

[Verse 3: Jonny Sé]
I been patiently waiting my whole life, roll dice
Fell in the fold twice, get in the wrong fights
But I'm never forgetting them long nights with no Christ
Read him the wrong rights, get him his Klondike
I been fed up with 'phetamine, bet he be telling me
Tryna bring me back down to the floor
But instead, it be jealousy
Heading straight to the party, bodies enveloped in gelatin
Moving light as a feather, but when they smell him
They let him in
And man, I don't give a fuck 'bout a low class
Broke ass, rappers think they high shit
Boy, I brought that low pass
Go fast, pro bass filter, got 'em on the line
They say the snowman's killed her
But it could have been the romance, or slow dance
Homie, this my toe jam
How you supposed to handle mans with no hands?
No, this the program where no mans land feet first
Wanton bomb to the strong critic
Bong hit, I'm gone for the evening
What wrong with the seasoning?
Shit, I was gone in the deep end too long
Found my reasoning sleeping on futons
Fuck spitting coupons just to move along
Took a bite of fruit now this the new Jon

[Chorus: Ryan Leahan]
Clocking shifts with no pay
Jump on ship, no you ain't
Choppy tides wash away
Those who feign for the fame
Crown my cup, fuck you think?
Worked for this so I drink
Grimey leech call my name
Wash you all down the drain
I'll wash you all down the drain, the drain, woah
Wash you all down the drain, the drain, yeah

[Verse 4: Arma]
I throw my voice so we could discuss
Why I spit blood? Kinda 'fraid of coagulating
But they're like onions, hate to cut in some
They think that the kids don't catch, nobody ever does
I pray for silence like a power greater
My brain is a powder-keg, don't know how to contain it
A contagion in quarantine, bright lights and entertainment
And fortunately, you've got an open invitation
Most beginners devoured by sickness just like this
Breathing's hot as the cadence, the same as an hour later
Cause Arma lay in to 'em, too like chickens decapitated
Hope your mind hasn't faded
Or maybe I'm right about the system that we farm a good grade in
I know all of my existence has amounted to data sticks inside coffins
I made a decision to survive
Spinning when I drive on plantations, raiding the coup
Like the prison split into partitions, I'm raiding the truth
Now listeners, libraries do what numbers don't do
Delete it, then stream it
No really, they're keeping secrets from you
Their weekends spent overthinking, lyrics confused
Like "If he never stutter step then why they speaking issues?"
Can't reframe what I'm saying to fake 'em or break 'em
So they gave up and intubated with Drano, juice
My gimmicks topping the Guinness
The game has stopped indicating
Like a kid stuck in the arcade, another hour later