Lyrics:
slow
See when you know that you bout to win let it all go
So uh yea I need that
All of them pounds in your pockets that prepacked
All of the robbing them
pre-heated
Pre-screened and pre-approved
Pre-packed, post-dated
Freeze dried, bubble wrapped and sold
Old vignettes and launderettes
We forgot to pay the rent
pre-packed lies my only hope my best disguise
(Ooo) I know I'm not perfect and that's fine
But I wish that I didn't make you wish that I was better
Like your
My supermarket trolley
Glides around the shelves
Of frozen foods
My supermarket trolley
Glides around the shelves
Of pre-packed goods
It
the song for the singer
One more pre-packed media thriller
Everybody come inside
It's a strange time
To be alive but
We'll be alright
Everybody come inside
pre-packed like meal prep
Heat check he next
Ya'll defected rejects be talkin bout stacks in the pretense this
This only real shit nigga
This only real shit
smell in the air
the American dream
sweet as a new millionaire
the American dream
pre-packed, ready-to-wear
the American dream
fat, like a chocolate
My supermarket trolley
Glides around the shelves
Of frozen foods
My supermarket trolley
Glides around the shelves
Of pre-packed goods
It rattles
hindsight were pretty weird
Skeletons in the furniture shops pre-packed inside the closets
Marketed as a convenient way to stay insured and honest
Mummies
It’s cold like stone on the lips, stings like cuts on the knees.
Pre-packed spirituality: the divine control forged by history.
Uncontestedly, we all
the weed
I tried to quit it but I relapse
We Getting litty
if I get it
Then it's prepacked
& if she widdit
Finna hit it with the seat back
more like a land mine;
Just one crossed wire, you'll blow the floor beneath our feet
And the houses of the million civilians
Pre-packed with
of inspiration
When the whole world's run by a TV station
It's a pre-packed life, numbered and bar coded
We're looking down the barrel as we get down loaded
comes prepacked
With a warm familiar glow
Robocowboys
You're dead ringers
Robocowboys
Say you're singers
Robocowboys
You're dead ringers
With
prepacked salvation,
For the guilty chosen few,
You say we're all just sinners,
Say it to the altar boy you screw.
You make me sick with what you do.
Lies
gagged and bound with a gun in your mouth
The news will say that its tragic
When i got your body prepacked in plastic
Then i up and vanish, like a trick in
pre-packed, post free the pleasure's mine.
Yeah, I work hard, frenzied, cloistered, clustered,
all a'boisterous that the arts be better mastered gainst
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