I love her manicure around my dick
I'm skinny, she knows she's not small
Son of a bitch, I don't have good manners
I'm learning the language of what lives within me
Done growing, we're all in shit
Every time we go out, it's to lock ourselves in
I play the asshole focused on his problems
I'm behind your queen like Santa Claus
Good doesn't even pay
Fame, there are too many bastards
And it's always like that
They rap about sorrows they don't live
I cut it like in Milwaukee
Find your rappers with the help of my sketches
Pookie
It shoots in your back like Ricky
Put the dope in the paper, not in the cookies

How to tell them all to go fuck themselves?
Huh
Often it's the nice ones who are traitors
I've dirtied too many pairs of breasts, I must admit
I already pity the babies who breastfeed
I should stop
But that's what I tell myself before I give it to you again
I would be pissed even if I had to be reborn
Don't kiss the earth through the window
Huh
I wish you harm but I'm not mean
It's the little voice in my head that sings
She speaks ill of people
I fuck you all but I'm not mean

How to tell them all to go fuck themselves?
Huh
Often it's the nice ones who are traitors
I've dirtied too many pairs of breasts, I must admit
I already pity the babies who breastfeed
I should stop
But that's what I tell myself before I give it to you again
I would be pissed even if I had to be reborn
Don't kiss the earth through the window

How many peach trees?
I pop when I drop
They tattoo me in the shop
I chat when I'm high
Rappers have pierced through misunderstandings, their stats I'm going to mow down
Still torn
My talent wasted
The past runs fast so I'm going to hurry
I have to keep my cool when the bitches come to tease me
Check check check
If you smoke before you go to bed
When you pray the little voice insults the eternal
It's not your fault, it's just the echo of your scars
Insensitive to all visual contexts
The screen makes you mean, the devil is in the virtual.

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