Deep In the healing process MRIs on my soul
She tried to leave that’s fine I specialize in all alone
I love the words but they mesmerized by the tone
Roll the dough and then we let it rise on the stove
I theorize shit outside realms of possibility
Godded straight up to the top and held the spot religiously
Rotisserie Peppas jerk chicken level authenticity
Till the day they pull up wit them red beams and Alec Guinness me
Cognitive dissonance demonstrative literacy
Ridiculous thought patterns and ominous imagery
When I get up on tracks wit Brewski that’s some obvious synergy
I was gettin used to Drowning now I’m treading optimistically
Apathetic atrophy abandoning my altruism
Allegorical anecdotes addled by the algorithm
All the arts allegedly appeased artificially
All alone apparently at least I got bitches wit me
I Wish you could see it the way that I way that I envisioned it
Byproduct of splittin atoms nuclear fisson shit
Make a livin goin crazy on beats Thomas Pridgen shit
I reminiscence and sit wit my decisions have to live with shit

Plenty sunny days (sunny days)
Oh I pray they on the way (pray they on the way)
Watch my worries hit the rain (in the rain)
I watch them slowly fall away (slowly fall away)

Stuck in my old ways dog this all new to me
Cyphin watchin Kubrick and slicin the charcuterie
Expensive vegetables roasted wit toasted cumin seed
Move em wit music used to move units bumpin tunechi lee
Irrefutably the greatest white rapper from Sunset Park
Nostalgic vibes like bumper cars and 2 on 2 runs at the courts
Flippin flows that fall off back of trucks get moved through lumber yards
For pennies on the dollars strictly profit like some fuckin whores
Less bout what your runnin from and more bout what you runnin towards
Don’t look at what other people got in life you should just love what’s yours
I’m like that good friend who you ain’t seen in a month or 4
But everytime you link the vibes is there it’s all love support
Couple things I had to clarify like lobster butter sauce
For every lap I run on tracks a slavic bitch in running shorts
Is tryna give me sucks in the Gulden's spicy mustard Porsche
been fuckin on my runners left well enough and let it run it’s course
This the type of shit that make Funk Flex tell you run in stores
and put your hands in the cash register cuz the moneys yours
150 dollar supplement white truffle course
Redbone and a darker shawty by my feet like thunder 4s
This my last chance like I’m all in dead to runnin 4s
Cloutchasin gamblers keep bettin on the underscores
If they ain’t rockin wit this they either envious and smokin regs
Or it was Over the head like reasons for a sluts divorce

Plenty sunny days (sunny days)
Oh I pray they on the way (pray they on the way)
Watch my worries hit the rain (in the rain)
I watch them slowly fall away (slowly fall away)