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Jonwayne
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Bukowski
One for Bukowski The days run away like wild horses over the hill The violent instigate the thrills in our three-course meals Tore apart, the cards set, no more hands to deal Scared kids lift the ground just to vandal and steal No time for books, we've got these plans to build And these vans to peel off, mans to kill Try to do the dance emancipated, jaded and ill Fuck the managers, crammed and castrated the fields It's the life we living, tripping it hypoallergenic We're statistics, counting calories to cal extended Face paint, lipstick from when we had braces Shrinks to save face with the wild it embraces Getting hand jobs on Craig's list The faceless patients like mice who be racing the cages at night I feel the moon hunt me down with a spike But I'm always on the move like a lightning strike My light's too bright, my sky's too high My rhyme's too tight They finally get it that I got rhymes to rock two mics You cruise already but what direction you headed? I advise you stray from heads that'll get you beheaded It's about time the community is given the credit I've been peddling rhymes since '97 plus ten And probably go till heavens ends, chilling in my den Drinking Red Bull to give me the wings and an ax Are we eating now? Are we eating now? Bring me the winds of a hanger Let me turn this beat off
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