Trippin'

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Bouley

Bouley was a contemporary French restaurant located at 163 Duane Street (between Greenwich Street and Hudson Street), in Tribeca in Manhattan, in New York City. The high-profile four-star chef David Bouley was its owner and chef.It opened at its second location in October 2008 and was there just short of nine years before closing in July 2017. Jackets were required for men, at both lunch and dinner. more »

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This shit got me trippin I feel like I ain't never comin up
My brothers dont need me i see Im guessin they done had enough
Withered truth be-tween me and reality
Of who I could be, I see, my highest peak
This shit got me trippin I feel like I ain't never comin up
I feel like askin aleXa to check on the pressure
Cause I'm, tired of living with all of this stress or
Messin around in the early mornin I pound on the dresser
Can't you hear my sounds of distant distress or message of wretched wreckage I'm fuckin cast away upon an island surrounded by snakes
I wanna get grounded by greats
Dont wanna be housed by the gates
Give me another voucher I take
RIP it up and season my steak
Get a cup of cough on me later
Haters better get out my way
Brought to you by, awkward youth I've, come across in my time
Talk to who I, do what I do, you be moving fine
Thoughts of suicide, always subside on the back side of my mind
I used to get used, till I pushed my head through, this battle that we call life
Now I'm ready to cut hedges with machetes
Till I'm dead with all these sketches on my bed that I drew when I was only ten
If I could take my fuckin life back you could bet your ass I'd do it
But if I did that then how in the hell could I write all of this music
This shit got me trippin I feel like I ain't never comin up
My brothers dont need me i see Im guessin they done had enough
Withered truth be-tween me and reality
Of who I could be, I see, my highest peak
This shit got me trippin I feel like I ain't never comin up
Are you a blessing or just a lesson of what not to do when we start undressing
When I'm losing sleep over pure depression
I dart I stress then i'm off to heaven
No starving artist from two oh seven
Could compare to me and that's facts
I'm carvin' hearts out of broken shards drippin blood on tar and the glass
I'm a harder bargain like a trip to mardens
Got a loco noggin that is vocal often
Know I'm hopeful joggin to an open coffin
When i smoke I'm coughin ain't no way that I'm stoppin
I guess that I'm poppin off with them bombs that I'm droppin on the whole town
I needa make a way to hit a clean escape
The clock is tickity tockin to me now how
Could I live
How will I die
Things that seem to come across my mind
I ponder when I wander down the halls that I would make dollars in Hope's daughter's never marry martyrs
But I'm feelin like I shouldn't bother
Now im losing sleep over pure depression
I dart I stress then i'm off to heaven
No starving artist from two oh seven
Could compare to me to cutting off the heads with
Notes that I wrote when my brain was septic
Everywhere I look gettin hella hectic
Now i got people askin if I have a deathwish
Of course I do, this is my acceptance
This shit got me trippin I feel like I ain't never comin up
My brothers dont need me i see Im guessin they done had enough
Withered truth be-tween me and reality
Of who I could be, I see, my highest peak
This shit got me trippin I feel like I ain't never comin up

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