Flyknit Shoes Iglooghost (Ft. Mr. Yote)

[Verse: Mr. Yote]
(Oh yeah)
I'll be in the club
And I'll be doing dances
See I'll be chewing bugs
And I'll be moving ransoms
All these pansies running frantic
As a pack of burning lanterns
Is it simply sad romancing
'Cause my levels rise to [?] touch
It's a rumble in the butt
An itchy pain that slowly cuts
Through all the centerfolds and duct tape
That dictate my knux
That's a fist face to crunch
Burst [?] veins [?] suns
See my puppy on my [sizzler ?] [?] rushed


Now chill boy
It's real, boy
Now don't you press my skills boy
I'm three years and going when you see me bite my thumbs
In these hides of metal gums
Seem awfully fly when I put up
In the marigold, so very old
Once sunny collects dust
And see frankly I've been busy in this shed with rusty nuts
That's a case of hallelujah in this final stage of boredom, boy
So rip the tidal waves or something if you seem to lack the jump
I live life with no duration since I rise again from mud
I brought bodies back from nothin' and then bake the skin and crust
Final fates seem awfully rubbish
If you take my word of tongue for it
(Shhyeah)
(Boy)