Elevator Music

We just want to get high… elevators
Come and elevate us

Sunshowers, young cowards and thug battlers
Gun powder, rush hour for drug traffickers
Niggas flippin the birds, eagle somersaults
Or like those fingers raised when you screamin' fuck em' all
Churches and liquor stores that border the block are scary
Corner apothecaries say order is watchin' wary
Cars is cruising through armed with suitable trig’ poppers
“bring home the bacon” “these aren’t yo usual pigs momma”
Naaahh, these narcs and cubicles give offers
Topsy turvy, pharmaceutical spin doctors
The smoking gun is sex pistols when johnies rotten
For that opium, meth crystals and oxycontins

Chorus

[Verse 2:ForestPunk]
Im just a little stoner blazin'
Trying to bring motivation for this whole hopeless nation
A bunch of young niggas and they wearin' oldish faces
Theres some sharks in the water on this stupid floatin' slave ship
They trying 2 make our red hearts die
So Im walkin on the sky till the death stars fried
Doctor says he can tell when their heads are high
Cuz their brains got wings on their MRI’s
Hopeless stoners is smoking douja in stone pagodas
Enough to give ya dome a coma like an O of soma
You see its dro and soda, weed and coca cola
If life is but a dream then you need to row ya boat up
Merrily merrily, very deep clarity
The rarest geeks will scare police the errors seen on glaring screens
Because apparently this era’s seeped in terror, please
Kids in asylums when half they parents need therapy

I just wanna get high, they wanna bring me down

Youth slept pillowed heads in alleyways, truths dead silhouette
Car chases, cali days , bootleg cigarettes
Narc agent baseball, misfits fight cops
Street guys get 3 strikes for pitchin' white rocks
Hearts is black, smart and mad with bad sickness
Cash digits make you start from scratch like rash itches
If there's vast riches, can a man look honest?
When many ask for spare change, cuz' Sam Cook promised…
Its fare game and that’s hustle dammit! Cash bundles handed
I bite the fingers that feed me a brass knuckle sandwich
Earnest merrymen
Are really coroners cuz' dead presidents are worthless carrion
So we flip em the bird where deserts eagles peck y'all
A cup of joe is juxtapose to a pep talk on ya death walk
These days when I'm rappin'
I let history's screenplay be a keepsake for the trash bin