Toro y Moi and Kenny Mason - Smoke

Bands over bands, what's the plan on the weekend?
Shorty got a man but my plan's intervening
Throw another grand if you think it's still even
Call a ambulance if you see I'm still geekin'

Burning through this bread like a brand-new toaster
Burning through this bread while we sniff out these posers
Burn it to the ground like a controlled fire
Burning through this bread with my financial advisor

I ain't no people-pleaser
I'm not spinning at your party in Ibiza
Thirteen-hour flight for some VCs who don't need ya
Private jets, we all know those be the demons
CO2, VOCs, tell me what I'm breathing

Ancestors, tell me now if you think I'm tweaking
Still adjusting to the time, feeling all four seasons

Burning through this bread like a brand-new toaster
Burning through this bread while we sniff out these posers
Burn it to the ground like a controlled fire
Burning through this bread with my financial advisor

Never had a friend be as friendly as BenG
Can't wipe off the grin after seeing where my ends meet
Jumping out the gym, I put gems in my wristpiece
I won't drop no gems 'til I feel like you're listening

Yeah, loaded TEC
Sitting where they won't expect
I'ma guest on Bouldercrest
Respect but they know I'm west
They ain't coming to see you, Otis
You can tell they want the best
You ain't ever gon' see my motives
You ain't ever gon' beat my motor
You ain't ever gon' reach my opus
But for trying I show respect
You don't really wanna eat that smoke up
gon' die if you hold your breath
No time to geek, don't roll up
That fire on me, don't roll up
I thank God He linked the bros up
Every time I hold that check

Bands over bands, what's the plan on the weekend?
Shorty got a man but my plan's intervening
Throw another grand if you think it's still even
Call a ambulance if you see I'm still geekin'

Ancestors, tell me now if you think I'm tweaking
Still adjusting to the time, feeling all four seasons

Burning through this bread like a brand-new toaster
Burning through this bread while we sniff out these posers
Burn it to the ground like a controlled fire
Burning through this bread with my financial advisor

Suddenly there's no more gasoline
No neon signs that read "We're open"
A poor connection
One bar lecture
Two bars down
You could hear her on the phone

Written by:
Chazwick Bradley Bundick, Edwin Kenneth Green

Publisher:
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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