Elevator Music

We just want to get high… elevators

Come and elevate us

Sunshowers, young cowards and thug battlers

Gun powder, rush hour for drug traffickers

Niggas flippin the birds, eagle somersaults

Or like those fingers raised when you screamin' fuck em' all

Churches and liquor stores that border the block are scary

Corner apothecaries say order is watchin' wary

Cars is cruising through armed with suitable trig’ poppers

“bring home the bacon” “these aren’t yo usual pigs momma”

Naaahh, these narcs and cubicles give offers

Topsy turvy, pharmaceutical spin doctors

The smoking gun is sex pistols when johnies rotten

For that opium, meth crystals and oxycontins

Chorus

[Verse 2:ForestPunk]

Im just a little stoner blazin'

Trying to bring motivation for this whole hopeless nation

A bunch of young niggas and they wearin' oldish faces

Theres some sharks in the water on this stupid floatin' slave ship

They trying 2 make our red hearts die

So Im walkin on the sky till the death stars fried

Doctor says he can tell when their heads are high

Cuz their brains got wings on their MRI’s

Hopeless stoners is smoking douja in stone pagodas

Enough to give ya dome a coma like an O of soma

You see its dro and soda, weed and coca cola

If life is but a dream then you need to row ya boat up

Merrily merrily, very deep clarity

The rarest geeks will scare police the errors seen on glaring screens

Because apparently this era’s seeped in terror, please

Kids in asylums when half they parents need therapy

I just wanna get high, they wanna bring me down

Youth slept pillowed heads in alleyways, truths dead silhouette

Car chases, cali days , bootleg cigarettes

Narc agent baseball, misfits fight cops

Street guys get 3 strikes for pitchin' white rocks

Hearts is black, smart and mad with bad sickness

Cash digits make you start from scratch like rash itches

If there's vast riches, can a man look honest?

When many ask for spare change, cuz' Sam Cook promised…

Its fare game and that’s hustle dammit! Cash bundles handed

I bite the fingers that feed me a brass knuckle sandwich

Earnest merrymen

Are really coroners cuz' dead presidents are worthless carrion

So we flip em the bird where deserts eagles peck y'all

A cup of joe is juxtapose to a pep talk on ya death walk

These days when I'm rappin'

I let history's screenplay be a keepsake for the trash bin