spinning vinyl for the feeling
go & kick your shoes off i ain't tryna see you leave yet
you could smoke a newport i ain't judging it's whatever
fogging up the room along w judgment and the weather
incidentally i'm cool w kicking back when we together
i don't smoke that often
i don't usually call you
if i could sing it better wouldn't have to rap at all
you see i'm lost between the syllables and bulletholes
from shots you fired off
can't find a metaphor perpetuating thought that's all up in my head
[metaphor]: insects swarming when you throwing rocks all at their shit
at a loss w half this shit
caught in a battle with making cool sounds & sounding cool in my raps and shit
* i'm still young but i'm growing up slow enough
& it's swarming me *