Gettin ready

I'm not creative, ideas started leaking from my mental/

When I was little, playing with his stencils/

Paint a thousand pictures with a photograph/ That's existential/

 

Now beat around the bush, round the Bush era/

With a bush light can and a dad in my hand/

Abandoned throughout the land a million little kids/

Unable to stand up straight without a stilt and stands and handicams/

In each of their pockets, I sock fuckers with lockets/

Steal that soft shit, make em think again twice before i hit em with my Crystler/

Like Skyler, stuck around too long with Heisenberg, hit an iceberg/

Barely merged, swerved, and heard the other lane

Lane Stanly i'm fucked in the brain, you think this is a game/

Well of course, because i'm bored, your life is on my chessboard/