b#tch I’m back with the abstract tracks
Floral bags, I’m a backpack act
Guess I’m happy I can’t rap that fast
Cuz if I’m slinging that, y’all be quick to pass that back, uh
Beats dramatic and I keep em from static
Always breathing, active, with some ceases like apnea
Defeat a pattern for a Phoenix to ravage
I ain’t even rapper I compete in decathalons
b#tch, I spit, produce and do the visuals
My mix improvin all in business school
I’m in tune better mood than I ever knew
Mind is fluid sh#t habitual
Time reviewing self has shifted thought
My influences have rid the dark
Climb to prove and nеver ripping off
I am who I am, my gift is art
Vying with the mob get rippеd apart
But I been suited to they vicious hearts
All-in, all my inhibitions gone
Prize in view and with no hidden cards
Every deal come with different odds
Every beat comes with different bars
Gotta switch the feel it’s giving off
No monolithic visions living on
Grass roots among the potted plants
Gotta chance without the guiding hands
Half-truths are loved by common man
But I’m the band and man with mic in hand
Grass roots among the potted plants
Gotta chance without the guiding hands
Half-truths are loved by common man
But I’m the band and man with mic in hand
Bedroom studio, FL Studio
Self-made, never help gave from a tutor yo
Best case movin forward, just stay true to yo
Self, raise hell, and elevate the numerals
Cut the delusional, what gets through to you?
Everybody done pursuin when it’s “who are you?”
f#ck your funeral, lust what’s juvenile
Cuz when the moon is new, that’s how you rejuve
And when the moon is full, I shape shift
Arrange hits til my cuticles painted
Take victims as I move along aimless
Make a name with it, you know what the game is
And if they shoot an offer, won’t take it
Shameless with Scooter Braun pay splits
A-list and my cubicle’s vanquished
But a million f#ckin dudes shave the paycheck
Grass roots among the potted plants
Gotta chance without the guiding hands
Half-truths are loved by common man
But I’m the band and man with mic in hand
Grass roots among the potted plants
Gotta chance without the guiding hands
Half-truths are loved by common man
But I’m the band and man with mic in hand
Ah, oh
Ah, oh
Ah, oh
Ah, oh
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Brutus Balthazaar Lyrics – Backpacker