Brush ft. Lokye Lyrics

I could transcend out my body when I'm feeling it

If my man's in that bitch give a fuck whose beef it is

64bit they don't know what the meaning is

Shawty changed like the leaves on the trees when the season end

Potholes fucked up my front end, I'm still whipping it

My best friend dead, but you know I'm getting lit for him

If they call me woe you know it's Working On Excellence

I spit this wicked shit just to insure you remember it

Capture the flag, I bring it back with adrenaline

If they want it back, make em pay for the membership

Extort him out his mother fucking soul and we cancel him

I don't like the way it sound yet I'm a perfectionist

I get in the booth and kick this shit like Devil Jin

Wings coming out my back horns growing out my head

Talking to the artificial intelligence like we friends

Who the fuck they think they is tryna tell us how to live

64bit using telekinesis to make it skip

I don't like the way it sound and ya beats don't hit

I don't even gotta touch the fucking keys to make em trip

Lokye rollin grabba in it got me smoking spliffs

Faygo in my cup yeah, kush up in my lungs

Look up at your face, you the type that we can't trust

Flames come out the crust, giving demons upper cuts

See it in the mind illustrate it with the brush uh

Little brother, what you smoking on

Young niggas hustlin on the block came from a broken home

Smoking on a fat ass blunt when I'm emotional

In the land of the broken souls, throwing bo's

Setting goals, never satisfied until them bricks are gold

In the concrete, I was just a rose, strike a pose

Slice a fold, then we getting back to business, stacking pros

City streets where grass is overgrown, graffiti on some burnt down homes

It get cold up in the D, it probably chill your bones

Create your lane God and sit up on your throne

Back in the day, drunk driving and totin that chrome

We been tagging the walls, tryna see what we on

All those lights on the grid, got it feeling like Tron, yeah

Faygo in my cup, kush up in my lungs

Look up in your face, that's the type that we can't trust

Flames come out the crust, giving demons upper cuts

See it in the mind illustrate it with the brush