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lyrics

Breathe in the steam n receive the vision.
Meek became eagles when them feebles listened.
Fill scriptures with pictures.
Delivering sick depictions…
Get wit em or get to getting.

Bruh, my mind is bugged like the eyes of a pug,
“Hi” on drugs, “Wuttup I am Guts”…(I’m Done)
Nah, I’d lie but..
Any mighty lion tryna insight a fight with these pioneers
here’ll find a spear right inside their ears.
When I’m writing at night I can hear
lightning striking outside my sphere…
Then silence in the air right before I disappear.
My tongue get all liquored-up n gun pussies down.
Spitting to split gashes, come fuck wit me NOW.
Keep bumping the sounds deep under the ground
Squeeze pumping these rounds…
Steez humbling clowns.
This heat…Is some serious torture.
I really need some water
Box is (boxes) all up in the muhfuckin crib,
like he’s a hoarder.
On a roll so I know I may as well keep on going
In a boat, so we gotta keep on rowing.
Hot or cold when I flow with the green glowing. (schmoke)
Get the o’s for the low so we can keep rolling.
Hoes love to show us choach yo, she’s open!
High as fuck up off the vibe, cuz the stee is potent.
Line for line all my rhymes got the sleaze soaking. (thirsty bitches)
Bout time that our songs got your wreathes growing.
Outside in the trees with the breeze blowing.
Fiends be knowing, so Yo! Just get beamed up over
N see if you can see the scene roasting…
Below ya! …Imagery toasted.

Breathe in the steam n receive the vision.
Meek became eagles when them feebles listened.
Fill scriptures with pictures.
Delivering sick depictions…
Get wit em or get to getting.

Scripts hit like fists n leave em holding their jaws.
Spit sniping wigs. I ain’t joking witchyall.
Make no mistake guy, the rhymes I spray drive a stake
through the face of any sly side-winding snake
who ain’t grinding straight, or even getting live.
Paying a lot, but not playing for high stakes.
All them muhfuckas be tryna sound just like
them other rappers, that’s doing way better…
But how could they be just as nice,
when they ain’t spitting for the same cheddar?
Ah man, is that true?
Yeah! That’s why me n my tribe’s raps run laps
that blast you out yer damn track shoes.
Crack statues in a tattered track suit! (Bruce!!)
(Shoot) if roses are red n violets are blue, then ghost ship.
They’re all dead when I silenced their “crews”.
Huge holes in their heads slimy with ooze.
Now souls can behold the violence he spews. I puke!…
The most loathsome boatload to soak em all Wet!
Laying back, whacked!…All cool.
Improve medicines n pull skeletons from fossil fuels
hanging out under fire hydrants in a tidal pool.
The rivals flew to dive through skies with viper drool.
Disguised as alliance troops.

credits

from MIRAGE FROM THE GONDOLA, released July 31, 2018

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BOXGUTS

Hot Bref Boy
Mutilator G U T S
Original art/Raw spit

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