Bruce Bayne - 3rd Eye lyrics

[Bridge: Bruce Bayne] La La La La La(x4) [Verse 1: Bruce Bayne] Monk is my moniker I'm getting drunk with my n***as And smoking on that bone- thug harmonicas Extra eye like a web cam on a monitor I specialize in the advancement of the commoners Third eye seeing through the trinoculars Try knocking us. You're not gonna have a high enough consciousness No enemies what kind of sense I need for reconnaissance I'm in a room that looks like my brain I'm battling the Bruce and fighting off the Bayne My chain off the chain, changed colors like Gandalf gained I got game to the grandpa cane You can't pause the reign. Hail, snow, or sleet Hell no you asleep but my dream incomplete Let freedom ring, don't free the dumb they afraid what some will think One wink is morse code a story told through a ton of blinks I'm working out the kinks s**a Your girl kinky Ima f** her on the sink s**a You bring supper to the king, Ima k** you watch the king suffer For the good of the people who've seen such a Terrible variable placed in unfair air theraflu From where you want to be wearing blue I'm in the corner of my continent with three contacts Like mom dad and anyone who responds back The prime package Devine, the blind batted savant Nonchalantly scribble with the italic fonts I hope the message get through or I'll stay waiting Been doing graffiti since it was cave painting Prime of my life boy I hay-daying Hate saying can't cause I can y'all stay hating In a room that looks like my brain I'm debating d-daying Keep saying peace sayings. keep praying [Hook] 3rd eye, 3rd eye I've got that 3rd eye, 3rd eye (x4) [Verse 2: Bruce Bayne] Recommended by the higher up Said I needed a supplier's plug Die hearts get they soul crushed Can't believe they tried to fire us, No love no loss Heard Yellowstone might erupt Empire'd and the land that I love in a lot of trouble if we don't try and trust I ain't talking about the geysers rising up I ain't talking about the guys that's in the Ryder's cup This is when your ride or dies only ride about a mile bruh And the debt you owed is so piled up Owe a desert snow powder, Owe my life to no low-power Devil and the po-po profiler And the yellow envelopes when the deals go sour