Soundtrack to My Thought Process
๐ต 2180 characters
โฑ๏ธ 2:26 duration
๐ ID: 24031308
๐ Lyrics
My nigga P Cubano, hail from Santiago
He said pass me that bottle of rum, we make mojitos
And puff some Monte Cristos while we listen to James Brown
King heroin, bumpin out the JVC now
As I sip my drink begin to think about where I'm at
Tip the ashes off my cigar and start to trip off trap
Doors that await me, but lately my Spidey-sense
Been tinglin, fingerin out the snakes
I move with experience, choose and select
I smoke with no filter, hickies on my neck
Scratches on my back from rough sex but what's next
Goin through my cycles of 7, I retrospect
Remember when it first hit me, me, Fest and Kenny
Pushin down Ocean Boulevard in the renty
It's a brand new year, here me
And I'm about to get mine, the harder way
Penny for my thoughts? You crazy
I'm the author that illustrate heart attack with pen and pape
Can't escape, might I be the greater innovator of the rhyme scheme
My mind state like a lighthouse in the fog
Beamin, slicin through the haze
While I'm puffin on purple, I circumvent the maze
They premeditate like a rat in a cage
I'm like Sly Stone Cobra, my hand's on the gauge
Blastin off stage in a haphazard way
And still hit the fat bastard with accuracy
Sayin why oh why did I need Cappachino
He ran up in the Starbucks with a gat in his peacoat
Havin flashbacks to seminary, back in the East O
Got robbed, workin baskin robins, 15 years old
He told me reach for the sky
Now inside my palm lies the cosmos
The omniscient prognosis that I'm strong and potent
Peyote poetry, ain't Jodeci, Olinzee
Oversee, overstand, this ain't corporatized
Just morphicize, and go blaow like a discharge from the.45
Every time I touch this mic you know I put my heart into it
Formulate and orchestrate, record and make the art of music
Populations, occupations, cross the nation, God forsaken
Pop my tape and watch me elevate with this new shit
Words of wisdom in the kitchen cookin up this energy
Wolfgang Puck can't fuck with my recipe
Heard your engine burstin pistols plus you got a slow leak
Third eye vision premonition, better listen closely
Who is he, could it be Olinzee?
Who is he, could it be Olinzee?
Who is he, could it be Olinzee?
Who is he, could it be Olinzee?
He said pass me that bottle of rum, we make mojitos
And puff some Monte Cristos while we listen to James Brown
King heroin, bumpin out the JVC now
As I sip my drink begin to think about where I'm at
Tip the ashes off my cigar and start to trip off trap
Doors that await me, but lately my Spidey-sense
Been tinglin, fingerin out the snakes
I move with experience, choose and select
I smoke with no filter, hickies on my neck
Scratches on my back from rough sex but what's next
Goin through my cycles of 7, I retrospect
Remember when it first hit me, me, Fest and Kenny
Pushin down Ocean Boulevard in the renty
It's a brand new year, here me
And I'm about to get mine, the harder way
Penny for my thoughts? You crazy
I'm the author that illustrate heart attack with pen and pape
Can't escape, might I be the greater innovator of the rhyme scheme
My mind state like a lighthouse in the fog
Beamin, slicin through the haze
While I'm puffin on purple, I circumvent the maze
They premeditate like a rat in a cage
I'm like Sly Stone Cobra, my hand's on the gauge
Blastin off stage in a haphazard way
And still hit the fat bastard with accuracy
Sayin why oh why did I need Cappachino
He ran up in the Starbucks with a gat in his peacoat
Havin flashbacks to seminary, back in the East O
Got robbed, workin baskin robins, 15 years old
He told me reach for the sky
Now inside my palm lies the cosmos
The omniscient prognosis that I'm strong and potent
Peyote poetry, ain't Jodeci, Olinzee
Oversee, overstand, this ain't corporatized
Just morphicize, and go blaow like a discharge from the.45
Every time I touch this mic you know I put my heart into it
Formulate and orchestrate, record and make the art of music
Populations, occupations, cross the nation, God forsaken
Pop my tape and watch me elevate with this new shit
Words of wisdom in the kitchen cookin up this energy
Wolfgang Puck can't fuck with my recipe
Heard your engine burstin pistols plus you got a slow leak
Third eye vision premonition, better listen closely
Who is he, could it be Olinzee?
Who is he, could it be Olinzee?
Who is he, could it be Olinzee?
Who is he, could it be Olinzee?