Feed Bag

[Verse 1]:
Yeah, Walley World Volkswagen with the surf gear
Hit the snooze button, lemme know when Earth's near
Steppin’ out the tree line, I'm carvin' first spear
Travel writer picture perfect with the Percs near
’78 baby, barely made Gender X (What?)
First went to Memorex to vent for stress
Time tunnel from Tacoma
Smoked the jungle to a coma
On a shuttle to Pomona
Codeine puddlеs in the soda
Sober fuddle whеn I flow dumb
Mixed the crumble with the molter
Rep wild, spit lines weird and follier (Follier)
My next style in five years, won't be worse
I'm Brian Fontana (yo!), hittin' groupies with the Sex Panther
Blackout come to a next after trespasser
Shroom descender, nappy bird and two for tender
Loop dementor, servin' soup for beggars

[Verse 2]:
Late trial cookin' in the pad as I add sentences
Chef lettuces, got 'em open with chest spreaders in
Under the desk medicines
You dig crates, I tread sediment
Livestreamin' a dead replicant
This patch just caught a body
I’m blue in the face like Giamatti
Fire rockets on the block like Senior Gotti (Hey!)
They don’t got enough limos for features probably
Hahaha
Yo, Tae Kwon-do, chop drums in a Congo
Brought the typewriter on the John Paul magic like mondo
Shout out to Johnny, LowKey Somnolent and border fam (Ayo)
Punch holes in the Earth lookin' like mortar’s land
Born from the ground up like Pinhead
Clockin' eye shapes no matter what the skin says
I hate doin' this now, I rather be out
I should own a town, sold this to your kids and, hand it down