Daily Routine 4lung

Fuck up shit! is what I’m kickin' ever since
I nearly sent my womb to her tomb in a deadly incident
Nineteen years later killin' fools like Brothers Vincent
I'm seen sippin' lean here’s your chance to repent

I’m the nightcrawler, I've been the wizardly installer
Of madness and hysteria since I was a toddler
The broken bottler, lemme open up ya jugular vein
The boy bizarre battlin’ baddies in the backwoods of Maine

I hear voices, and they tell me to make choices
Questionable unmentionable like blowing up Rolls-Royces
Of any honky who steps and proves inept, bumpin’ Carly Ray Jep
On my way to the spot to buy a billion grams of pot
All my foes you thought were hot have been left behind to rot

The intangible tangerine-tangy terrorist type
The rhyme projector in your sector building up hype
Call you on Skype (brring!), just to flash you my ass
Runnin' thru your class fast with no fuckin' hall pass

“Kid's style's ill!” your teacher might remark
But the time she chimes in I’ll have escaped into the dark


My rhymes reverse time a little bit like Robitussin
So sit the fuck back, shut your mouth, and quit your fussin'