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Rhymes so spicy, need an antacid
High-minded, call me Captain Fantastic
I just want to hide in the woods all day
Where the ghost of Noam Chomsky haunts me
My bad, I didn’t realise he wasn’t dead yet
Guess I was caught up in my head manufacturing consent
There’s a multiverse of ways to get your head checked
I’m focused on my own shit, so much I haven’t read yet
(You rap horrid, your rhymes are abhorrent)
All that beef but nowhere to store it
Follow me, I’ll show you where the source is
Three Michelin stars, can only afford two courses
Bile building up, you’re all spit and no loogie
Sometimes a star is all wishing, no doing
Fumble in the dark, all searching, no moving
House lights up now, end of the movie
Call it what it is, a mess
The hatchet’s not buried
High time to give it a rest
I’m fine, you can’t run from high tide
Call it what it is, a mess
The hatchet’s not buried
High time to give it a rest
I’m fine, you can’t run from high tide
No, you can’t run from high tide
I been gone with nowhere to go
Don't think I'll make it on my own
Can't trust you so I'll do it alone
All alone, it's all I know
But let me run it back for a minute
Guess I'm glad that I met you
Through the pain came protection
And I guess I'm a master of this shit
I'm a special kind of nigga, I ain't worried over it
Cause you know that I'm a
High stresser when the stakes is low pressure
If I don’t get it together swear to God I’ma still be the best
Don’t you ever forget
Cause you know that I’m a
High stresser though the shit is low pressure
If I ain’t getting better swear to God I’ma still be the best
And don’t you ever forget
Cause you know that you can
Call it what it is, a mess
The hatchet’s not buried
High time to give it a rest
I’m fine, you can’t run from high tide
Well, they’ve been talking shit about you and they might be right
Well, I might be nice but not at the end of the line
You cried wolf too many times, I won’t break stride
To bend my ear and hear lies
Herein lies the struggle: what’s a real sign of trouble
If not an impossible choice
Man, I’m playing God, you’re playing tricks
I build facades, you’re faking sick
I’m making lists of pros and cons
You make me wish I never called
What you imply, what they infer
You change your mind, I change my words
We’re out of time, your claim’s absurd
Between the lines what’s left unheard
You call me chum like I could be friend or food
You won’t find me, no chance
Hide these tiny moments
Bundle up and stuff the keyhole
No peeking, I mean it
Quit this daydreaming
And hold on to your secrets, please kids
Cause you know that I’m a
High stresser though the shit is low pressure
If I ain’t getting better swear to God I’ma still be the best
And don’t you ever forget
Cause you know that you can
Call it what it is, a mess
The hatchet’s not buried
High time to give it a rest
I’m fine, you can’t run from high tide
