Lyrics:
a neuralink device
Confusing gender with chemicals
Mass hypnosis
It's not a good prognosis
Rise up and rise all
It's time we cause the fall of the cabal
If you
And now you're blue
As blue as a boy could be and the prognosis isn't good
Now you're looking at an early grave and you're looking good
Well your hands
love
I really think I'm dreaming
Wait what? Nah, Chet wake up
Now it's Too Soon to tell
But the prognosis is not looking good
He has suffered from
Andy Cat to Earth(This is mission control)
Prognosis?(All systems go)
Good, I'm going to make the jump to light speed to see my mom and d-a-d
Hey
and test, but still it can't be named
They suggest treatments but no prognosis
You can't even get a real diagnosis
It could be a gluten allergy
It could be
all we smoking (gas)
Good gas, good gas, good gas (good gas)
Good gas, good gas, good gas (good gas)
Bitch bad, and she got a big bag
Told her put a 3
the prognosis
Where was I putting in my focus
Cause that’s where energy flowing
Smoking herb pack floating
Verse:
I hope y’all get the notion, greatness is in my
drip I froze it
Holding my focus
Turn up at closing
You name it I broke it
What's the prognosis
Dreams of psychosis
I'll die a poet
Where my
Ooh, ooh
Ooh, ooh
You're bad for me, I clearly get it
I don't see how something good
Could come from loving you
The death of me must be your
prosper
Prognosis of a problem child
I'm proud and well devoted
This Piru shit been in me forever
So forever I'ma push it, wherever whenever
And I love
will leave you
Right where you stand, nah I don't wanna dance (I'm good)
I just wanna see what's in your Frankie B pants
Waist is low enough to let
will leave you
Right where you stand, nah I don't wanna dance (I'm good)
I just wanna see what's in your Frankie B pants
Waist is low enough to let
bags
And please be of good cheer
I'm sure you'll like where you reside
But with respect, I must confide
I can't abide the Countryside
I hope you like it
(Foundation)
Queensbridge Crew, forty busters, shorty busters
Vernon Posse, Good Fellas, you know how that go
My man Ill Will rest in peace forever, God
need to, mami I will leave you
Right where you stand, nah I don't wanna dance (I'm good)
I just wanna see what's in your Frankie B pants
Waist is low
around
Pick it up like engine number nine
It's mine, homey, Tech, what's good?
And it ain't hard to tell how I rep my hood
You a beast like me, rep
Is headed for your arm and hand and your, head, I'm a cannibal
Good heavens, the man's hoppin' over the fence like a fucking antelope
So, send it
Is headed for your arm and hand and your, head, I'm a cannibal
Good heavens, the man's hoppin' over the fence like a fucking antelope
So, send it
the prognosis: drugs, guns, and ounces of Gold fish
Fly reefer out-town, bitches is stone six
And birds back in 18 and played C.R.E.A.M
Gray beam, it's lean new
Hitmaka yeah
Give me all the pretty women
Form Pasadena to Medina
Conway get in between you
Then peep the prognosis
We pop toast and pop corks
leave me alone
People got a problem,
(act like) I can make (dubplates) for them,
So they can look (good and tell tales)
Its all jiggy and we look
forward to having some space
But when my conscience starts drifting it will find itself in a very toxic place
It's screaming that
Every good thing you ever
think I'm joking
ain't shit on me broken
bitch wanna hear my prognosis?
I'm the most devoted, you noticed
I drop them bombs, so corrosive
but in
didn't need no feel-good pills and no psychiatrists
No, we just bled out in our bath, and god damn it, we liked it
Doctor, what's my prognosis if
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