| Bite if it energize enemies |
| Mind, am I filled up with jackal teeth |
| Surroundin' me, in front of me and back of me |
| All together they want to laugh at me |
| I’m paranoid, heart beatin' fast, sweaty, and I feel like faintin' |
| All at once everything starts meltin' around me |
| Like a Salvador Dalí painting |
| It’s gotta be, somebody bought a hit — illusion |
| My sip that had got me sick |
| Poppin' off at the lip on a real bad trip |
| Now how much worse could this shit really get? |
| Talkin' to myself but I don’t talk back |
| Cause I ain’t got too much to say |
| Completely on my biscuit |
| And bitch it’s only quarter till 8 |
| PM, see them starin' at me again |
| As I’m swattin' away a swarm of flies, they think that I’m pretend |
| But my hair is made of cotton candy, my pupils big as plates |
| And I’m ridin' a unicycle while eatin' a birthday cake |
| How many drinks did I take? |
| I’m sure it’s wet at the bar, fool |
| Better pop this bottle then float away on this bar stool |
| Then I wait for the compliments |
| Your peanuts and popcorn as my luggage |
| This trip ain’t so bad, its like a vacation, I love it |
| Oh shit |
| Another bad trip |
| I don’t think your brain is even ready for this |
| It’s like oh no |
| I don’t think it’s ready for it |
| Oh no |
| I don’t think you’re ready for it |
| She said «wanna smoke?» |
| And I said «what's the worst- *talking backwards*» |
| On the bed, she start to roll |
| And I light it up and I start to choke |
| And I really wanna hide in the bathroom but don’t |
| Cause my legs wanna move but they won’t |
| And my eyeball feel like a couple of fireballs |
| And I see bugs coming out of her drawer |
| Why the fuck you laughing, bitch? |
| Why the fuck you all up in my face? |
| She said, «Just so you know that joint I rolled was super laced!» |
| I said you’re crazy, but I like you, but you’re crazy |
| And at first my trip was bad but now it’s fuckin' amazing |
| And I hear what chain let them down |
| Cause I don’t wanna know |
| Why I feel like I’m stuck to the ceiling, I try to go |
| But I just came out right back at the beginning, outta control |
| And now the room is gonna spinning |
| And I see it’s gloomin' me |
| It’s dialin', I’m repentin' my soul |
| I’ll never know because I passed out |
| In the ground, on the floor |
| And I woke up naked, shakin', cold, lookin' for clothes |
| I couldn’t land it on that doorway — it’s my fault, I should’ve known |
| So when I’m thinkin' about drinkin' or gettin' high every night |
| I’mma keep my eye on the shit they put inside |
| And I watch em creep in and leavin' something deceivin' inside |
| The drink I’m drinkin' in bar, the end of the evening tonight |
| They’ll be schemin', plottin' something rotten |
| And it’s hard for me to remember, most likely it’s been forgotten |
| So I keep hopin' there’s nothing floatin' in my cup to the bottom |
| And nothing laced up in the weed that I’m smokin' when I got it |
| It seems like I’m havin' a bad trip again |
| And I’m lost and confused and I’m trapped in my head |
| And I’m so fucking high |
| And I can drown to fly |
| And in no need of space at all in it and I don’t know why |