Lyrics:
gather roun
Suh mi send fi di rum an di ice
Selector, string up di sound
A party
Chorus
Jamaican, yuh know wi brain hot (well hot)
Di grades high an di
Billy's quite wholesome
He's handsome and gets good grades
Those of us who know him- know
He's a soul of the innovation age
He has lots of friends
today I got energy on speed dial (Brring)
DK my man go crazy on the organ
Feel so free man yeah, you better call me morgan
Can't leave the house but
on the make
And Paul sells life insurance and part time real estate
Helen is a hostess, Frank works at the mill
Janet teaches grade school and probably
on the make
And Paul sells life insurance and part time real estate
Helen is a hostess, Frank works at the mill
Janet teaches grade school and probably
back
My guinea pig committed hara-kiri
So we used him to play hacky-sack
My neighbor's kids sold weapons grade plutonium
And frosty ice-cold lemonade
to honor shining stars when it's clogged like an artery
I'm a carnivore, know the art of war, you better draw your sword
I'll carve your organs, have you
the ground
Believe it for a while
Until the 8th grade
When I started to peep game
(start questioning things.)
Like why were we’re slaves
What made
Ninth grade, I was late, nigga (yeah)
Had a closet full of minks, nigga (yeah)
Universal, hittin' licks, nigga (yeah)
F&Ns when you reach, nigga (pussy
back
My guinea pig committed hara-kiri
So we used him to play hacky-sack
My neighbor's kids sold weapons grade plutonium
And frosty ice-cold lemonade
takeaways
Hindsight's your grammar, see
I'm just a musical
Muscle with memories
Love all you can 'til your
Organs give out on you
Take one more dream of me
should add psychotic carbs attached
Twas third grade exact when Pettit Maile taught cursive loops
And tightened screws a few to do what better do, yea
Seven Sword Horde, bitch
Roll you up in linoleum
File you in the folder
Your face up on the poster
Nine dashes in the holster
Dollbreaker organ
the younger days
Used to keep it thugging that's my brother since the second grade
But if you want me to be honest no of these niggas couldn't elevate
On my
the ocean
Too calm to get upset by somebody's notion
Future makers, organ takers
A non-human intelligence is guiding
Worlds colliding, far away star system
I
scribble in lead, what I'm writing, of course, is
Private endorsements of my spilling organs
I get out of bed, lay a kiss on her head
Get my mic to record
band Steve Bannon and his pump organ and take back the swastika from the establishment group. And then we got little Jimmie from Norway who'll be
still slim as Shady
With the cadence
They marvel at how Marshall
Had me going blond
Spitting stupid vicious verses
In the 8th grade
But now it all adds
brahh
Names Face got a grade A namesake lames say BANG their claim to fame GANG GANG
Same thing for the fate of the freight train eight days straight
nails and change my strings
Be the next caged bird who sings
From the wings
Of love and other guns
The organ donors need
A blood transfusion terribly
To endorse any and all fallacies 'cause you wanna be
Grade-A without doing the homework. That won't work
Try to appear as something that you aren't, means you
and keep coming back like I’m walking methane
Pimp shit all white suit, Roscoe P coldchain
Like good grades you will never catch a nigga slipping
Ion like
brain began to inflict pain
While you’d had enough—suicidal in the fifth grade
Shit, was it all my tormenting that made you this way?
I blame my behavior
the fight upon the organs
Like that flask kept outta sight, full of store-rum
Coke for your sore gums? Ignore your dentist
Why you sitting on your bum? You
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