Am by Torn Lyrics
[Verse 1: Torné]
Motherfucker, I almost bleed to death yesterday
Ripped two ribs off and used them to stab the now dead presidents
In my house I am the only real resident
'Cause fam ain't truly present so for me they don't represent more Than the leaders of an experiment
What up nigga, that would be me
A nigga breeze through the beat with an agony breath, stinking, halfly deceased
Niggas could never be as wicked as me
A wizard when my vocals surface the beat, a junkie and a piece of trash in the streets
Lot of surnames but niggas usually call me Torné
Land full of promises but ain't nothing left for the autotitled dopest MC
Rapping for myself is what I do casually
Every day alone 'cause niggas and bitches ain't as good as the mic for company
Put the earth in a hearse, the world ends when this feature really happens
Universes erode, I blow up and this shit will be coerced and reversely cursed
Grab me and Earl and put us on a track, ragnarok occurs
Headfirst for it in a turf where beat and verse are divorced
Drink a whole fifth of rum like I'm a pirate or shit
Walk carelessly while I'm standing next to the highest of cliffs
Smoke three cigarettes and then fucking riot the spliff
Make a nun do a ritual for me and then eternally silence the bitch
[Verse 2: Sweat Earlshirt]
Bitch, I skated before I rapped
If you take me before your captain, bet 20 hots on your daddy
That someone could Noila Clap 'em
Probably cold and passive
Cause Pops was the one that got to me
Feeling down like he passed it
And when I'm cornered, it's action, I was kinda out the game
Momma put the quarter right back in the slot
In '09, we took the 7 to the Dussy 17 to the block
Bitch, if yo' nigga had Supreme, we was the reason he copped it
And nowadays I'm on the hunt for mirrors to box with
And some pretty bitches that ain't trip if it's a hit and run
I got the gold cause I don't do the crying, bro
She Mario, I'm tryna keep the whining to a minimum
Piggies come, bet I'm splittin' quicker than I finish rum
Find me some Indica, nuggets on my fingers
And my shirt like they was chicken crumbs
The room spinnin', finna yak if I don't hit the blunt
Got the chin waggin', slim chances of me getting up after this
Mind in the trash next to where my fuckin' passion went
Dodge fanatics, half-a-Xanax when I'm traveling
Six hours or more, brick out on the tour
Got kicked out of the morgue, spit cattle manure shit
Shit, rally the Horsemen, tally the corpses
Motherfucker, I almost bleed to death yesterday
Ripped two ribs off and used them to stab the now dead presidents
In my house I am the only real resident
'Cause fam ain't truly present so for me they don't represent more Than the leaders of an experiment
What up nigga, that would be me
A nigga breeze through the beat with an agony breath, stinking, halfly deceased
Niggas could never be as wicked as me
A wizard when my vocals surface the beat, a junkie and a piece of trash in the streets
Lot of surnames but niggas usually call me Torné
Land full of promises but ain't nothing left for the autotitled dopest MC
Rapping for myself is what I do casually
Every day alone 'cause niggas and bitches ain't as good as the mic for company
Put the earth in a hearse, the world ends when this feature really happens
Universes erode, I blow up and this shit will be coerced and reversely cursed
Grab me and Earl and put us on a track, ragnarok occurs
Headfirst for it in a turf where beat and verse are divorced
Drink a whole fifth of rum like I'm a pirate or shit
Walk carelessly while I'm standing next to the highest of cliffs
Smoke three cigarettes and then fucking riot the spliff
Make a nun do a ritual for me and then eternally silence the bitch
[Verse 2: Sweat Earlshirt]
Bitch, I skated before I rapped
If you take me before your captain, bet 20 hots on your daddy
That someone could Noila Clap 'em
Probably cold and passive
Cause Pops was the one that got to me
Feeling down like he passed it
And when I'm cornered, it's action, I was kinda out the game
Momma put the quarter right back in the slot
In '09, we took the 7 to the Dussy 17 to the block
Bitch, if yo' nigga had Supreme, we was the reason he copped it
And nowadays I'm on the hunt for mirrors to box with
And some pretty bitches that ain't trip if it's a hit and run
I got the gold cause I don't do the crying, bro
She Mario, I'm tryna keep the whining to a minimum
Piggies come, bet I'm splittin' quicker than I finish rum
Find me some Indica, nuggets on my fingers
And my shirt like they was chicken crumbs
The room spinnin', finna yak if I don't hit the blunt
Got the chin waggin', slim chances of me getting up after this
Mind in the trash next to where my fuckin' passion went
Dodge fanatics, half-a-Xanax when I'm traveling
Six hours or more, brick out on the tour
Got kicked out of the morgue, spit cattle manure shit
Shit, rally the Horsemen, tally the corpses