THIS IS THE FINAL SONG OF THE TAPE by Superyellow Lyrics
[Skit Intro]
[Hook x2]
Oh my, oh my
I have made a mess
An ugly stain, irremovable
Until death do us part
It's all an art formed for a last breath
Piss poor lo-fi sounds left for dead
[Verse 1]
Stand clear!
Away from the fridge where I placed my ingredients
To cook this shit right here
Best you trap these CFCs that I see
Before the hit the seams of the ozone
And then, you let the heat reign down on our skins
While some find the shade in fresh willow trees
Meanwhile, being the lizard that I am, sunkissed
On the surface, still at risk
On the pages where I vent, mend a somewhat shaky wrist
In a world where dreams and visions are crushed by stone
Yapping dogs with tartar buildup, biting bones when all alone
While all along, I script out thoughts, record
Lay them on a beat I made, mixed and mastered lousy, sure
It's my art, so it's OK
Poor as it as, innocent as it sounds
It's way better than being a fiend who lost his feeling
In a dead ass town
Coming through unannounced, deep in your inner
The last song of this tape, this right here, comprende?
O-
[Hook x2]
Oh my, oh my
I have made a mess
An ugly stain, irremovable
Until death do us part
It's all an art formed for a last breath
Piss poor lo-fi sounds left for dead
[Post Hook x2]
One time for the dude with tape that ain't gone be shit
Catch a vibe, bump this, to the song
Through the snares and kicks
[Verse 2]
What tends to piss me off is how we love to do the same
In the fields of music, fashion and all that keeps real sane
Being the audio chefs, some make the dish, pervert it on some
Mimasaku Subaru tip, leave you worthless in this food war weaponless
While I stray away from chaos and the taste of death
I put my methods to the test
Bearing little trees to untouched lands on my Jadav Payeng
Birthing forests, man, as we move on to a new flow
Switch the gears up, hurdle over niggas, Alan Pascoe
Sound quality slightly piss poor, not phased, just so know
It's not as fiscal but if it was, I'd have some Rolihlahlas
By the fistful, but to what end? I do not know
With these ideas that survived the bin, who would anyway?
In any case, I'll just let these sparks to fade away
Don't mean to start up a flame, as you can see
I am a madman, cynical as it is
You have sus rappers writing garbage, ain't that a bitch?
All this ice on and they still have carpal tunnel syndrome
Back pains until retirement, I guess that's lit
Might I digress the very fact that this tape will be
The boogeyman under your bed
Slept on, as some might say, it still remains to give you nightmares
Than them dudes hard on them 808s
[Hook x2]
Oh my, oh my
I have made a mess
An ugly stain, irremovable
Until death do us part
It's all an art formed for a last breath
Piss poor lo-fi sounds left for dead
[Verse 1]
Stand clear!
Away from the fridge where I placed my ingredients
To cook this shit right here
Best you trap these CFCs that I see
Before the hit the seams of the ozone
And then, you let the heat reign down on our skins
While some find the shade in fresh willow trees
Meanwhile, being the lizard that I am, sunkissed
On the surface, still at risk
On the pages where I vent, mend a somewhat shaky wrist
In a world where dreams and visions are crushed by stone
Yapping dogs with tartar buildup, biting bones when all alone
While all along, I script out thoughts, record
Lay them on a beat I made, mixed and mastered lousy, sure
It's my art, so it's OK
Poor as it as, innocent as it sounds
It's way better than being a fiend who lost his feeling
In a dead ass town
Coming through unannounced, deep in your inner
The last song of this tape, this right here, comprende?
O-
[Hook x2]
Oh my, oh my
I have made a mess
An ugly stain, irremovable
Until death do us part
It's all an art formed for a last breath
Piss poor lo-fi sounds left for dead
[Post Hook x2]
One time for the dude with tape that ain't gone be shit
Catch a vibe, bump this, to the song
Through the snares and kicks
[Verse 2]
What tends to piss me off is how we love to do the same
In the fields of music, fashion and all that keeps real sane
Being the audio chefs, some make the dish, pervert it on some
Mimasaku Subaru tip, leave you worthless in this food war weaponless
While I stray away from chaos and the taste of death
I put my methods to the test
Bearing little trees to untouched lands on my Jadav Payeng
Birthing forests, man, as we move on to a new flow
Switch the gears up, hurdle over niggas, Alan Pascoe
Sound quality slightly piss poor, not phased, just so know
It's not as fiscal but if it was, I'd have some Rolihlahlas
By the fistful, but to what end? I do not know
With these ideas that survived the bin, who would anyway?
In any case, I'll just let these sparks to fade away
Don't mean to start up a flame, as you can see
I am a madman, cynical as it is
You have sus rappers writing garbage, ain't that a bitch?
All this ice on and they still have carpal tunnel syndrome
Back pains until retirement, I guess that's lit
Might I digress the very fact that this tape will be
The boogeyman under your bed
Slept on, as some might say, it still remains to give you nightmares
Than them dudes hard on them 808s