The Fool (rough draft)

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PanCho I.A.O.

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Cross the motherfuckin' line like a razor blade
Pass before I get the grade
The way I'm gettin' faded you would think that I been gettin' paid
The way I'm gettin' jaded you would think that I been gettin' laid
Stuck with dirty dishes
Hurtful bitches drop-pin' ugly names
Quit the shit to get a fuckin' job where they do just the same
Earn a name with game complainin' bout what happened yesterday
Revertin' back to older ways
Glazed by what I marinate
Rappin' on these beats about defeats like I got shit to say
Tablets full of dreams in micro doses leave my conscious vague
Palates too accustomed to the plainest tastes are why I stay
Vanilla as a mocha
Chocolate creme brûlée
Lazy, dazed, and crazy
Stay be bathing in patchouli
Hasty with the order
Load the raps like I'm Chipotle
Help ya health
Invite myself inside ya pocket like a copay
Never met a rawer hotter mix
Wasabi with the poke
Distraught and lost in thoughts of every memory I locate
Swear my head ain't even spinnin'
Just be feelin' when we rotate
May my Will be done without remaining royalties or probates
Maybe then I won't be wastin' every wakin' moment hopin'
To be fine

Always tryin' to fly
Always tryin' to trust
Always try not to die
In a world set up for us to hit the dust
Set up for us to bite the dust

Always tryna stay high
Always tryna find love
Always tryna get by
In a life where there don't seem to be enough
Where there don't seem to be enough

Well, we meant well, as well
All is well that ends well
I guess we'll see what's meant to be 'cause we know only time will tell
Holy hell, wholly held
Blow as hard Holyfield
I don't got no blade to yield
My tongue don't make for quite the shield
Conceal yourself with lowly stealth
Go be a phony somewhere else
Coping with a cover 'cause we new to tryna heal ourselves
Hope is just another pitch to leave you in a gutter
Now we out here sparking magick
Marking plastic notes they utter
Motherfuckers, sittin' twisted as a wrist that's gettin' bent
Stuntin' women they ain't fuckin'
Stackin' money they can't spend
New traditions or addictions
Poor conditions fair to trend
Did Quentin T direct this shit
Cuz it don't seem to reach an end
These tasteless waste of space placed in our face have got some wounds to mend
With many reparations overdue and IOUs to send
The man has played you for a fool if he's convinced you he's your friend
We all just dollar signs to them
Receptive vessels for their phlegm
You got to decide if pride will bribe you to pretend
Without a lesson found
You bound and wound up in this shit again
Too condemned to comprehend that you can't only fucking spend ya time
Just tryna be fine

Always tryin' to fly
Always tryin' to trust
Always try not to die
In a world set up for us to hit the dust
Set up for us to bite the dust

Always tryna stay high
Always tryna find love
Always tryna get by
In a life where there don't seem to be enough
Where there don't seem to be enough

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