Cemini

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Quay8

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Take a ride feel the vibe southern stories for the glory of it all I have arrived
The spirit of a Gemini and a Cancer
A Cemini been outcasted no Aquemini
A bystander
Outlier since them dirty pampers
Thirty answers
Find them writing  through these dirty stanzas
Carolina
Look to the finer things don't need designer
Sleep depriver we seeing trees and smoke them up for higher
Southern stories asking a stranger to by a cigar  and he don't even own one bed sheet or Lil pillow
Running through with the  trees so confidential till a branch would smack a nigga in his Dental
This small town mentally detrimental
But I'm prone to heat the beat with Pen or pencils
Ready or not
Here I come
Sign the line on the dot
Alienated spaced out on his ship he call it the stu
It's Quay eight but to yall it's Mr Q how we do

Every dog has had it's day
Not everybody see they fate
And no matter your religion some way we having faith
I'm just trying to stay safe moving with these play fakes
Friday working late night and sleeping through the day
Never a time to parlay and play some charades
I'll go out in the blaze of glory spread me in the everglades
I'm not wishing  death let me knock
I ain't the cops chill out i'm tryna block any bad luck

Gon with another one
Tryna make another one
Pain I can't cover up
I sober up falling down like what's up
Cold chills feel like he in Russia
Tough luck make em hush up
Q cut up

Ambulance we'll weep hear the ambience stampede on a nigga sadly
Survived but he far from happy
Nigga was straight apache
He patching up his lil wounds from the past mimicking daddy
He'll never play as the average/
Tapping into a source unknown from the average lacky
These bitches helluva annoying they acting peppermint patty
Talking bout where you at I ain't laughing just send da addy
Fasho/
Knowing he capping he worried bout other scores she get mad and hit with a scold then Say f*ck with that other hoe
I'll be seeing you promise layaway sprayed  da bungalow
All ya folks
Dats the problem today and them years before
World cold old days fade away decay into mold

As I sit below the mountain no fountain of youth I'm counting my days
Pure as the water untouched by a humans graze
Phased by imagination and wonder stumbling down like the rock that hit me while Climbing away
I look up cobra clutch on my neck from staring I'm stuck
And the question is does it matter or what

What is life
Wet pussy and grace
Hard hit to the face
Stab to the heart
Leave the beat outta place

No him and I
Just me and I

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