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Dry Ice
Armand Hammer
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Lyrics
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Yeah, I was in on the plot, but you still got a fiend shot
Election's over, but the robocalls never stop
Negotiations broke down, they sent in RoboCop
I don't know nothing, I don't call a lot
Answering the phone like you know I want something (Hey, you not wrong)
She said "Come inside if you coming" so we bet the farm
Anything I ever got was on the arm
Anything I ever got was on my own
Mengistu how I watch the throne
Type of kid who never wanna be at home
Be in the park shooting hoops alone in the dark
Red flag, but what you really gon' do for him? He already gone
Once they put him in the hole, he was ready for 'em
Submit the verse long form, still put it on Twitter for you silly niggas
Walk past homeless like "Cry me a river"
No question about it, doc, I'm getting sicker
When she said the magic word, definitely got bigger
No question about it, I'm definitely getting sicker
Smoke like dry ice, every line is a mirror
Try as they might, never see him clearer
What he most wanted she wouldn't give
Took everything else, he the type to do it big
It's like an ocean out there
Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though
Under the undertow
It's like an ocean out there
Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though
Under the undertow
It's like an ocean out there
Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though
Under the undertow
It's like an ocean out there
Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though
Under the undertow
It's like an ocean out there
Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though
Under the undertow
It's like an ocean out there
Sometimes I wonder how I keep from going under though
Under the undertow
The universe is unbothered
What's the matter if I murder a few rap bloggers?
History told by a conqueror
Rounded the remains to the nearest tenth
Tell me how he grew grain like it's his, leave no prints
Skin to skin, wickedness in high places, watch your chin
Swordplay, bounty of war, red sauce is port-based
Storm chasing, trying to melt my face on my born day
Shape of things to come, practicing for a world where they don't exist
Pigs that shoot hoops with the kids
Few months later, slapping cuff links on they wrist
Running off script, pop, smoke, sniff
Psychotropic dose, pockets open, swear to no one
I know oceans, I got no lungs
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