Tree High Climbers, Keelay, OEN - Paper Monster

Is he gifted, it's a given
Shit, fit to make decisions
As if he makes a living from lifting heavy weights
Not quick to shift the vision
His circle stays small even taking into account
The six degrees of Kevin Bac'
This bass down to earth, let it quake
Leave the beat in mint condition
Ya'll must be drinking, finish that Colt 45
Pistol whip your liver
Need it clear I'll make it crystal
Vodka with a spritzer
Strong arm needed for you to get the bigger picture
From little whispers to screaming fans
Rumblings in the basement to circulation just like ceiling fans
These words making me believe again

Harder to barter ponder me longer
Wander smarter, posture proper
Paper monster, mache'd larger
Fakest problems, pasted in conscious
Cannabis activist I ran for the medicine
Couldn't walk in my shoes, or preach my platform
Shouldn't mock me too, I'll reach back for 'em
Wouldn't block the chew,
I Change form per form each take I transform
Wave for 'em in time with the waveform uniform free form life form obvious hot as operation desert storm you wanted more I got more for sure
money from songs with notes low, flat bread, that's fantastic
high on songs, sharp cheddar, rap sandwich

Got no problem burning bridges I never needed
We'll cross paths again if it was meant, better believe it
Compelled to say I was birthed in heaven
Only turns to hell if you let it
I'm hoping to forget those lessons, lessons
Learn to dwell in homes and not the past
Despite what we lack
Can't distract from the fun we've had
Making money back
Solely from the gas
Just like a rebate on propane
These flames came straight from names Keelay and OJ
We creating til old age
Our fate is unwavering
Our place is Washington or Waverly
Bros like Russo
Who else do you know
Could go down the field in two throws
Maybe OJ with the juice tho

Never pressed no matter where you go
Never late, I'm on the clock like Hugo
Big dreams, all problems are minuto
Maneuver through em in UNO
Going ham call me Prosciutto
Fine Cuts, this shits true gold
Very raw, I'm smoking but I set the cruise tho
Hear me now like, who do you know?

Written by:
Kyle French-Gilmore, Owen Wendel

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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