I walk out of bars, my feet on the clouds and my head in the stars
I roll like a fruit when I roll up to mars
I′m sticky, touch it, take it with me so I never run out of barsI walk out of bars, my feet on the clouds and my head in the stars
I roll like a fruit when I roll up to mars
I'm sticky, touch it, take it with me so I never run out of bars
I′m feeling like Peach with a parasol
Haters try to hate, don't hear 'em ′cause I′m high huffing aerosol
Brain's not there at all
If I had to be a vegetable, I′d be a carrot 'cause I do not give a shit
Pull a UFO into fifth gear, drink a fifth of everclear
Shit′s about to get weird if that was never clear when you bought your ticket here
Space travel takes forever, dear, we'll be there in eleven years
But until then my mind stays active, holding the captain captive
Break a new record a day just for practice
Fuck it, I′m finished with Guinness, I'm going galactic
Beast on the mattress, cheat on my taxes, went to the desert to feast on a cactus
Then I saw God and he asked if he were to take a break, could I pick up his practice?
First rapper staying on the charts all day
Big step for man, even bigger with small legs
Create a crater on the scene and blow up like Pompei
Maps shift with my dick 'cause it counts as four states
Lap up these rhymes like you′re stuck in the dog days
I′ll lap all you fools, Funky Kong with no brakes (Hey)
Break all your bones when you headbang to my takes
Now fuck off a little I just need some space
Boy bitch I got the truth, I'm the newest craze (Okay)
Boy bitch I got the proof, been on the charts all day (Okay)
Boy bitch I got the truth, I′m the newest craze (Okay)
Boy bitch I got the proof, been on the charts all day (One, two, three, four, let's go)
Space Jam with the Jordan shots, boy
Shit, what I′m recording's hot, boy
So dope that you′re nodding off, boy
Hope for your crew, well, probably not, boy
Hop on the ripstick, I think I'm addicted to making this lit shit pop off the top
Got all my wishes and got all my bitches, yeah, this the new anthem: the Litzkrieg Bop
An XLR's my excalibur
I sound so good like "cellar door"
Subscribe to me like Esquire
′Cause I′m making new shit like a solar core
Into the wormhole, you'll find a few punks who use rocket fuel to light up big blunts
Into the future, we make big bucks, we traveled at light speed to crush all you fucks
I′m crisscrossing flows like applesauce
Made a spaceship with a roll of floss
Emboss cards like I am a boss
Now, fuck off if you 'ain′t heard of us
Boy bitch I'm on the move, better watch your pace (Okay)
Boy bitch I′m on the moves, moonwalk on your face (Okay)
Boy bitch I'm on the move, better watch your pace (Okay)
Boy bitch I'm on the moves, moonwalk on your face (One, two, three, four, let′s go)
Coming up like the feet in Vancouver
Hit the club for one minute then I call myself an Uber
Striped sweaters on deck, emulate Freddy Krueger
Waldo: the real killer, should have figured that sooner
Coming up like the feet in Vancouver
Hit the club for one minute then I call myself an Uber
Striped sweaters on deck, emulate Freddy Krueger
Waldo: the real killer, should have figured that sooner
