HI-DEAS 4

(альбом: Hideas: The Album - 2021)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Church, uh

Red carpet, gold lace
Fake smile, fake wave
Stop, pose, smile, eh
Shutter flash, flash grenade, dang
What's a snake and sparkler to Mr. Joe Dirt, ayy?
Show me them boobies, take the hammer to the poop tank
Kicking Wing higher than the top of fucking Snoop's house
Shag carpet like the van when Fred and Daphnee rolled out
That's why I act like Shaggy, smoke a bleezy hunt for ghosts
Get possessed, become a legend with a pencil and a scope, ho
Put poison in your cranium, these bars are thick titanium
You couldn't sink me in 1912 with iceburgs helping ya
They told me knock on the door, ask to be let in
The River Rat was floating home on a door right then
You can blow that whistle and you'll jack about a thousand times
But I'm ice cold, leave the haters frozen back in time
The poor boy stayed afloat, rocking bottoms like a tater sack
Spicy Cajun with the flows, mic inside a jerky shack
Je-Jeffery Dahmer with the knife, you want beef I sell human flesh
From cutting off the faces, people coming tryna piggyback
Church, Church, Church you don't answer none of my calls no more
So I'ma start some rumors, you're a prick because you're ego brah
I see you eating right now you're getting back in shape
Since I'm just a lazy fuck I'll say you're on coke and depressed
30 cars, four houses, bills paid, suck my bull nuts
Record label, what is that? I sign my own checks son
I've been my own boss since I got fired from Eddie's Market
Took a piss inside a classroom, got expelled from halls of Harpeth
Dropped out, never even got my GED
Failed English class every year now they're reading on me
Like I became a brain surgeon, or I play for LSU
I hate hearts tell the doctor print the CAT Scans for
I reckon you want to see how bad I'm RHECing in
I RHECing mud tracks running through the town
Dirty dirty when I RHEC the shit
They opened up a can of teenie weenie Beanee Weenee's
I'ma eat the beat with my eyes low, our haters smell like Denny's
Can I get these fucking sissies smothered covered extra onion
Country rap needs a big shot, then you can call me Paul Bunyan
Blue rocks in a White Owl, yeah I'm hip-hop's White House
Since I blew up now it's extra pimp to pull that tractor out
Jason Aldean said he'd take you for a ride
I'm the one that's popping wheelies, PTO crank the high
You might die in my mind, I'm a rare one of my kind
I've been in this shit so long I got mushrooms growing on my facade
I got the public eye tripping like their pupils dilated
Hip-hop rubbing it's eyes before they realized that I made it
The game is closing, overdosing on some Melatonin in the open
Drooling on the window no direction where the fuck you goin'?
Remember back to when Ol' Red had his evening run?
Or when George had to make Amarillo by morning sun
Well I'm making something also and I don't know what it is yet
I don't have to know 'cause I know I got a killer intellectual mindset
I know time is a damn track just like each track has a time
This is hours of thinking just puzzle pieced together with a bunch of uneven lines
For uneven minds, no reason why, I'm just vocals through the damn system
But when I'm gone and the system crashes people still gonna tune in and listen
Church

Stone baby stone
Stone baby stone
Stone baby stone