I can't sleep, I can't keep away from the beat It's like I'm 6 feet deep in the ground beneath my feet Unless I'm hittin' the street, and puffin' on weed Kickin' raps and schemes completin' lyrical dreams I mean I'm getting f**ed off of blunt consumption Bud combustion, yo, with no interruption Self destruction motherf**er no it's not constructive But f** it if I'm not at least a little productive Above it, yo, below the radio clamor I'm hammered, f** ya life of glamour f** ya p's and ya q's but please excuse my manners So ballin' you'd confuse me for Kevin Durant or Ted Bundy cuz I k** microphones I find them alone, k** it put its head in a box Wrap the wire round a rock and drown it just down the block Effectively chop, with no electrical shock I k** a mic every day, and then I smoke on a blunt And then I smoke more blunts, I never smoke just once Writin' lyrical stunts, a hazy shuffle through tracks Muffle the critics while I blaze and make stacks That stays intact, I never blow all my dough I just buy a bunch of dope like a couple of O's Every so often, you scoffin', I just be coughin' Then I sell the other half right back for a profit