Lyrics:
The object of your sanity
The one who keeps you on your pills
You're the manager of my free will
I don't wanna be
The object of your sanity
The one who
oriented
I'm thirty-million past the part that said my story ended
Bitches hangin' onto nothin', at this point they need a doctor (they do)
Bugus writin'
(On June 19th, 2022 I made this track)
(Which is my manager's birthday)
(Giyoon Kim is a great manager)
(Her and I have been making far)
(And we are
and go on random adventures
Acupressure, letting go of my barriers
Large money manager is manifesting from the heart center
Cycle of earning potential, my
groove as smooth as supersonic
Have a look around, both your eyes will open wide
Object-oriented model alone is so contrived
Back seat driver taking over
And nothing comes of it but a manager's anger
Not for the mess, but her father's remark
About a bad grade she had as a child
So she takes her revenge out
kicks it kinda prone to receiving
A KUBE 93 complex
All sex-oriented computer-generated jiggy jams jamming the airwaves
Preventing innovative cats from
thoughts
Children listen, it gets deep
See once upon a time inside the Nickerson Garden projects
The object was to process and digest poverty's dialect
yam on nanny cam
I'm gettin' handies with the zanny Xannys in the Caddy armrest
I'm imaginin' objects so I'm battin' cobwebs from a daddy longleg
In
the zanny Xannys in the Caddy armrest
I'm imaginin' objects so I'm battin' cobwebs from a daddy longleg
In Hamtramck, got the panoramic camera
Xanax, a banana
the window
stood the instrument, the fiery tool that would become
the object of my new found desire.
The instrument of my passion,
my obsession, the blood-red
closed it I know you closed it regardless
You a fucked up manager Cass'
Real managers are supposed to open
Doors for their artists
Well when it was time
want and I use my head to get it
I don't need to sell my soul to earn my independence
Chin up strut I walk in with my head up
I'm not an object but I
Nothing special just a decent three cheese omelette
Wasn't expecting gourmet feeding was the object
Didn't stress the slow waiter seemingly ignoring
Prefer
rages I stumbled across a small
music shop and in the window stood the instrument, the fiery tool that
would become the object of my new found desire.
Don't be an artist be a manager
Get a real job I won't pay you
Don't be an artist or just work for free
You won't ever make it if you don't get naked
Get
songs
On their precious pink portables
From Mexico to Canada a million boys
Tune in to transistor radios
He is the object of teenage dreams
And the bane
treated like a object
Goin' to the crowd, tellin' managers I'm up next
Sittin' in the show, crowd', waitin' room, I'm up next
Take you off my song, why
slash manager
Slash amateur slash rapper slash actor slash tapper/
the hit song jacker New nod factor/
turned playboy when he dropped the Craig
You seem hungry--time for your four basic food groups
Understand the knowledge, wisdom, plus the damn truth
Trapped on the realm bald, the object
wanna shop next
foreign objects
checks dont bounce stay clear never complex
shorty's tappin first place never any contest
can you feel me, feeling you
do
to love or learned how to grieve
So a poison, I'm obsessed
Addicted to objects
I encompass it all and can't leave
It's killing us all when
We children,
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