86 - AYM

Twist it up, tryna make some cents

Never fucking really know where my mind is

I never fucking really know if my mind

Is twisted up, tryna make some sense

Never fucking really know where my mind is

I never fucking really know

Ay whether it’s inside of me (or)

Not yet to be

I try to keep my blinders set

To open sea (to open, see)

It’s easy to get lost in thee, broken dream

But when the nightmare striks for me

I conquer thee

Interjct myself in seas of pretty things

And when the vision comes to seize

Get lost in trees

Moss’d it with a long TD from Dante C

Oop’d it with a slam from Shaq by the Kobe

(RIP)

Pimento peppers if you catch me nappin'

I’m selling brisket till the 86 happens

A finger of redemption rye

Why not give a try

Worst that could happen is you spit it

Right in my eye

I love it, the stars still the mothership

Haven’t seen them so clear since with the U.P.

kin

You be okay kid?

Okay great i hope you ain’t telling fibs

Yo yo, i hope you ain’t telling Phib

Hold it hold it for a second

(the door)

You thought i was leaving by yo i’m coming back

(for more)

You’re probably right, i’ve indulged much but

Have yet plucked my quota of enough touch

And not in the physical

But in the mental and spirit

I, do what i can just make you feel it

I’m, moving again away from deliriousness but

Sometimes that shit’s a trap and i’m boxed in

Fuck that orange head prez

(i) coulda been dead without healthcare

By the time this song’s out my head

Conditions preexisting don’t exist when the wallets fat

The condition you’s in is, thanks to your dad

My two Pops, props for giving me a chance to be me

To freestyle fluently whatever i can see

Consciousness, be the next level optics

Keep it 20/20 or you’ll probably feel lost and…