Burn the maps
We ain’t coming back

Charter for the unknown
Sacrificial heroes
Heralded through space time
For every chronicled rhyme we design
Gets to shine in the stars
While the herbs sticky-ick to the grind

Existential crisis
Pardon all my vices, I’m impervious to the virus
Walking barefoot on glass legos has me fending off my calices in my chasing of the holy chalices

My nigga
Beartooth super sleuth cookin’ cookies in the kitchen
Savannah crews are family ain’t got no time for the dissin’

Descending into madness
Can’t afford to recess
Defecting from the process
Depression brings the cold sweat

But I’m marvelous with my wise-guy hair cut
Hopped on the throne young
Re-embodiment of King Tut, but you can call me Cuna
Never find another brother who can slick you with the smooth cut

And I’ll
Cut it apart
Fuck the game up with cheat codes
Guitar Hero rockstar
Paintball gang war
Feast your eyes upon the high score
Spitting fire till my throat’s sore

I’ve recently grown fond of all my passions
To the point where I feel confident I can make all my dreams happen
And man this city scape is bleak without any Sunday Night action

Active effects on the battlefield including spewing confident tactics ’til you’re making that bread while asleep in your favorite bred Spread-Eagle to form the ultimate showside attraction

Grab the torch and hold that flame just right

Ignight your life by the lamplight
Save file deleted to take the extra chance at living with no strife homie

Onso got the gold goat and we’re holstering our performance anxiety in the jell-o mold deep beneath our ever increasing belly rolls

D-cypher the prose while we unclog your nose and you can sniff the proverbial shit just to see it’s 4 days old in the time it took for you to announce that I should do as I’m told

But niggas don’t know the code

And I’ll
Cut it apart
Fuck the game up with cheat codes
Guitar Hero rockstar
Paintball gang war
Feast your eyes upon the high score
Spitting fire till my throat’s sore