Product of the Past ft. Smith the Poet & Whose Lyrics

Yeah we know how it go in your dome

Life a digit, you a bigot for the dough

Merely fragment the whirlwind's control

Rather twirl pissed and throw up the throne

Damn y'all my bad

Didn't mean to stab a motherfucker in the back

But greed in my grasp, I fiend for the scraps

Yeah, just a product of the past

We know how you roll in the known

Life a smidgen, you a pigeon for the dough

Merely sadness, the surface, the soul

Rather burn bliss and sulk while I'm stoned

Damn y'all my bad

Didn't mean to shoot motherfucker for his stats

But greed got my gat, woe is we still the rats

Yeah, just a product of the past

Searching for my worth, not my Worry-Free

Learning off the curve, it don't work for me

Concurrently they con currency

Using cons for the job it's an odd murder scene

Bargains at the shop off the no-relief

Margins on the offers all we told to see

They don't want an autumn on the gold received

They should rot in green, let me bottle up your sorcery

Watch 'em get sore with me

'Cause I'm disorderly and they expect a forgery

Known for the former if you don't endure the lore

Wolves will get you on the floor if they're blowing down your doors

Wars in the name of George, holding a fleur-de-lis

You can pour me in the gorge, gore my organs on the beach

But I tore my orders up, not a soldier for a fleet

Hopping borders if it coming to the morgue recording me

Yeah we know how it go in your dome

Life a digit, you a bigot for the dough

Merely fragment the whirlwind's control

Rather twirl pissed and throw up the throne

Damn y'all my bad

Didn't mean to stab a motherfucker in the back

But greed in my grasp, I fiend for the scraps

Yeah, just a product of the past

We know how you roll in the known

Life a smidgen, you a pigeon for the dough

Merely sadness, the surface, the soul

Rather burn bliss and sulk while I'm stoned

Damn y'all my bad

Didn't mean to shoot motherfucker for his stats

But greed got my gat, woe is we still the rats

Yeah, just a product of the past

Twilight vision quest, surrounded by some better men

Mind filled with excrement, could use some potent medicine

Days feel as pointless as adventures from the minute men

Looking at the data and I'm being told to disengage

I lost control of my life

Yet I wonder if I had my hands on most of the pipe

Moon shows a resemblance to home and a light

Where I can grab my running shoes out of the zone of the mice

Homies sit me down real close and say I show lots of might

In the face of any foe who grows in rage of the kike

I lace my boots and start to climb the stairs prepare for the fight

This is for that lonely soldier messaged strangers on skype

SO, tales spoke of a souped-up pork eye

Who gave a thumbs up like Yusuke Godai

Crows shouting at them that they should go die

As fearful as the big-chin Brit with the bow tie

Yeah we know how it go in your dome

Life a digit, you a bigot for the dough

Merely fragment the whirlwind's control

Rather twirl pissed and throw up the throne

Damn y'all my bad

Didn't mean to stab a motherfucker in the back

But greed in my grasp, I fiend for the scraps

Yeah, just a product of the past

We know how you roll in the known

Life a smidgen, you a pigeon for the dough

Merely sadness, the surface, the soul

Rather burn bliss and sulk while I'm stoned

Damn y'all my bad

Didn't mean to shoot motherfucker for his stats

But greed got my gat, woe is we still the rats

Yeah, just a product of the past