Psychic Kids - Call Collect (feat. Pat the Azmatic, Kirk & SMITH.b)
Call collect, real homies only will pick up
I got regrets, regurgitate when I think of em
Stick out my neck, move mountains doing all that stuff
To bowed heads, real homies only will look up to swords edge
Boy I'll battle with a boss or a bear or a building
I keep em on pins and needles, rappers should try quilting
Yet still, deep in my head, I said thank god the pill sing
Contract hire, move messy but the kill clean
Done with obstacles and doing all the frontflips
Doing all the dumb shit that I ain't really one with
Calling in the gunships if you make assumptions
I was 17 with the lean on my blunt bitch
Never was a fiend like the team that I grew up with
Responsibilities Could find me if I was running
The constant nepotism seen turn me to a curmudgeon
Spend less time fighting and more feeding ur munchkins
Yall lines more fun dip, lunch on y'all's husbands
Low punches, only getting better like Ron Funches
Crackpot, hairbrained, Stacey, all given names
Hard to argue when the thoughts from back of mind straight rush the stage
Pushing through from the seats to the GA
Like a bull through bed of roses, fantasy becomes keepsakes
*Pause*When the anxiety makes you freeze frame
You try to make change at every point like a keyframe
Reframe me in 94, they put me with the Nintendo
I got it with the Duck Hunt thats combined with that Mario
Formed a love for all the drugs the Mushrooms and the flowers flows
Nostalgia to the Ultra watch them habits start to take they form
I been taking hits up in my mind and from my enemies,
I see the end in me, the lack of all my dopamine
I remember sipping gray goose with the grenadine
I remember flipping Kung Fu, David Carradine
Playing Halo two me and my bros were out here starving
Open up the door after 12 and you a target
Grew up with guns under tables in the closet
Boiling hot water on the stove from the faucet
Just to take a bath, I ain't doing all that math
I ain't that stupid or that daft, just to listen to some nonsense
About to jump off this, 30 foot gap
To crack my head, little bitch, cuz I'm sick of fucking talking
Takin less walks but put the talk in
Call collect with caution, the reason your signal's droppin
In the cockpit of starships, lookin at this tar pit
Riding through marshes who is you to start calling
Call collect, real homies only will pick up
I got regrets, regurgitate when I think of em
Stick out my neck, move mountains doing all that stuff
To bowed heads, real homies only will look up to swords edge
Written by:
Bryce Smith, James Kirk, Patrick Cummings
Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
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