Kweku

Chalupa spilled on the dress shirt, tell me why my neck hurts
The pressure, to stay awake with boring ass professors
When the mass of lecture addresses what you read first
The night before, why’d I come to class for a refresher
But leave that scenario, the rest of it’s to barely note
Same shit every night, {“Roll Tide” “wooo I’m drunk,”} good for you that is very dope
Pick up chicks keep my accent switched to be Ontario
It’s all a façade, yo the lie is a job
Promised to God I would move my ass up out of here
But obviously not, I’m still a student matching solitaire’s
Qualities, I’ve got a booth, okay a mic, to volunteer
Songs made in a place I had wished to escape
But now I’m locked in here, ironic, I’m a slave to this space
It’s a dozen foot by eight where some fables are laced
Aching for a break to Accra, Raleigh, Toronto
Always saying no return, keep on changing the date
A couple rare moments going back, some co-ed undergrads
In the back, smoking what’s got so wedged under that
Double back, say it twice, solfege pro
Gone the way of the do-do by these lames that are po-pos
Awaken just to puke a Jackson Pollock on my slumberdrawls
Laughing at the dudes, chasing girls playing Wonderwall
Try to strum guitar to other tracks and they don’t know dick all
Got another thing to run by y’all…Am I still vain though?

Hook

I don’t know where you be or how you see but we got the light
I don’t know who you be or who are we but we kind of like
Like I think that we fly to a point that they can’t even describe
Like I know that Cruz, Alby, and Kweks are gonna make this thing nice

Nate

Trapped in my home town, solitary confinement. Commissary overflowing with monetary consignment. Finding logic, deposit it into a pointless synopsis, and I'm positive that the operatives aren't stationed in the projects. Unconscious and pompous, launching through Wonka's glass ceiling. Beefing over bullshit and females that catch feelings, appealing. But I'm a victim of rhythm whenever a song plays. Sound waves synchronize, thinking, vibing to John Cage. It's, long days when I zone and crush the killahs. Drones cut from the same cloth, cloned the same double helix. Flooding the gutter when I brainstorm, the rain pour. Disciple of John Locke, mind locked in the same form. Strains swarm, wrapped around the base of the mic. I rep my hometown but it's the place of my plight. Niggas try to succeed, but the never left mom's chest. You blind mother fuckers got an Oedipus complex. I'm gone.

Hook

Kweku

...
Wackness played out like Dickie’s, Saucony's, Girbaud’s
Feel my sayings like Goku’s fire when he starts glowing gold
Kamehameha to a Mayan when the globe’s to implode
Then bring a blitzkrieg to bops like I’m Joey Ramone
The world’s gonna end? Believe I’ll leave while I’m tryna grow and
Had hoes on my dick and now my dick’s in a hole
Who thinks that’s misogynistic? Yo you don’t even know
What I did with that line so you can go lick a pole
When the whole shit is froze down to 40 below
Where our systems collide, stay warm with a nose snow
I’m blown, openly gauche drinking 40s in Rome
Finding virgin white widow I could smoke with the pope

John

Hook (x2)
Bullshit