Wisdumb - Ride Out, Sunset. Lyrics

Hop up on that horse's back, throw some quarter back
Ride off in that sunset, looking like a quarterback
Caught up with a quart of Jack, quarter bad bitch
Flip a quarter and court her courses in my last ditch
Effer blast it like it's semen on the ceiling and cement
Wheeling from the feeling of being the best re-ject
American or not, killer as some chicken pox
Thriller bigger than his britches, but still jizzing in his socks
Willy Lynch should give him props, he'd get shot and deserve it
This irked him, found the birds and bees and burned them
Third degree circus freak looked at me, I murked him
Barked up the wrong tree, gollee, I'm just purging
My search engine for mentioning the sick shit I get up to
Betting I'm a bedoin, you don't like me? Then fuck you
Bedoin in the best of them, that shit's priceless
Little did she know I'd write a diddy, it'd go like this

Who am I? You don't even fucking know
Who am I? You don't even fucking know
Who am I? You don't even fucking know
Killing them, thrilling them, willing them to stop it
Billing them, feeling them, manilla as a mosh pit
Chilling in the brothel, the cost will accost you
Gosh dude, gosh boo who the fuck are you?
It's noon, feeling lousy watching the sun move
Base my shit on Bukowski and Sungtu, and Wu-Tang
So Kung-Fu dumb fool, bucktooth? Fuck you!
The crux of my justification is 'Fuck you'
I don't even know, leaving hoes with leaking holes
As freakish goes, I just freaking pose
It's scary, commit harikari and bury my berries
In some fairy's dairy air, very rare
Shout to my homophobes everywhere
Grin like the Crimson Chin, grid lock and load
Pockets full of fingers on the pulse and pot to roll
Fuck with my joints, these instrumentals are priceless
Head bumping to exploit an existential crisis

Who am I? You don't even fucking know
Who am I? You don't even fucking know
Who am I? You don't even fucking know

Pee on peons with no preamble
Ramble, rapping, rascal, damn yo
Sipping brandy, Marlon Brando mixed with cassimo
Brandish branded spittin's like shitting out some castor oil
Cackle on my Cassio, leave Jesus with his casket closed
Make the Catholics go, "I don't like this rapping joke"
Drop and roll, cocky motherfucking cockroach
With a crocodile smile, cock it, lock and load
Rocking Ray Bans, Ray Crock with a spray tan
Been the man all the way back to my great gramps
Serrated words, grated and graded on a scale
Of one to hanus, plagerism's my face
Schism's a favor written on my playlist
My abyss is underrated, yours is overplayed with
So fuck you anonymous adversary, your shit is dated
Self deprecating maven, made in America
A clerical error without a prayer or a predator