Rozz Dyliams Whole Game Lyrics
Whole Game by Rozz Dyliams
Tracks to Mundo, digging through the wax of Mundo[?]
A lot of people say shit but I'd rather flap my gums though
With enough bass to make the speakers shake and rumble
The Earth crumbles and only I emerge from the rubble
With a fowl loader[?] and mad 5 o'clock stubble
I been in my bubble just watching my stacks of money double
I'm causing trouble, you sticking in[?] Ohio and I still do
Still kicking my same dirty mildew
Mellowed out jazz for the road trip steazy
Shit to make the road trip easy, enjoy the EP
I self-released it 'cause no label wants to release me
Shit's too easy, too cheesy, too beneath me
I don't even make music anymore
I just write an audio diary and get paid for it
I could flood the Earth five times over and stay dry
Alone in the isle whenever I'm brainstorming, uh
I hate Christians, hate Jews, hate Mormons, hate touring, hate Erica, hate Georgia, and... hate Lauren
Actually nah, I'm already moving on because hate's boring
I'm the beat maker, if other cat's got beats I'll be the beat breaker, independent heat maker
Flexing on this MP[?], I'm a damn champ
You couldn't even get on my level with a damn ramp
I keep the sample damp, I like the groove muddy
Shouts to funk friends, they cipher[?] my groove buddies
Do a unit study, try to capture me in my rare form for a few minutes before I'm airborne
Off to the sea [?] to collect a bill whatever cheddar to piss away before I even return
Rappers get burnt when the spatulas get turned
And about to make you motherfuckers relearn
The how's and why's the rejections
The shouts and cries, the answers to the questions
The reasons you feel worthlessness
I'm not even an MC anymore, I'm a subjective journalist
First person, profane, Gonzo
I'm not a player I'm the whole game, console
I'm not a lost soul
Shit I'm just one of denial
Stuck at the crossroads, and I just want to walk home
I am the one next snapper to these dubstep rappers that wear Alife, going about their gay life
Most of them are gay right?
If you're a player I'm the playwright
Say what you may, but everything I say tight
This is midnight, lace laced tight for late nights of cutting through the tension with a steak knife
In the air, if you care
You'd know I don't keep the skeletons in the closet
Their in the stairs
And my opinions are not in the stairs at all
But then again, if I cared at all then I'd probably bear it all
My body is a weapon and I craft bullets of regret and regression
So if you move, I shoot you full of them
A lot of people say shit but I'd rather flap my gums though
With enough bass to make the speakers shake and rumble
The Earth crumbles and only I emerge from the rubble
With a fowl loader[?] and mad 5 o'clock stubble
I been in my bubble just watching my stacks of money double
I'm causing trouble, you sticking in[?] Ohio and I still do
Still kicking my same dirty mildew
Mellowed out jazz for the road trip steazy
Shit to make the road trip easy, enjoy the EP
I self-released it 'cause no label wants to release me
Shit's too easy, too cheesy, too beneath me
I don't even make music anymore
I just write an audio diary and get paid for it
I could flood the Earth five times over and stay dry
Alone in the isle whenever I'm brainstorming, uh
I hate Christians, hate Jews, hate Mormons, hate touring, hate Erica, hate Georgia, and... hate Lauren
Actually nah, I'm already moving on because hate's boring
I'm the beat maker, if other cat's got beats I'll be the beat breaker, independent heat maker
Flexing on this MP[?], I'm a damn champ
You couldn't even get on my level with a damn ramp
I keep the sample damp, I like the groove muddy
Shouts to funk friends, they cipher[?] my groove buddies
Do a unit study, try to capture me in my rare form for a few minutes before I'm airborne
Off to the sea [?] to collect a bill whatever cheddar to piss away before I even return
Rappers get burnt when the spatulas get turned
And about to make you motherfuckers relearn
The how's and why's the rejections
The shouts and cries, the answers to the questions
The reasons you feel worthlessness
I'm not even an MC anymore, I'm a subjective journalist
First person, profane, Gonzo
I'm not a player I'm the whole game, console
I'm not a lost soul
Shit I'm just one of denial
Stuck at the crossroads, and I just want to walk home
I am the one next snapper to these dubstep rappers that wear Alife, going about their gay life
Most of them are gay right?
If you're a player I'm the playwright
Say what you may, but everything I say tight
This is midnight, lace laced tight for late nights of cutting through the tension with a steak knife
In the air, if you care
You'd know I don't keep the skeletons in the closet
Their in the stairs
And my opinions are not in the stairs at all
But then again, if I cared at all then I'd probably bear it all
My body is a weapon and I craft bullets of regret and regression
So if you move, I shoot you full of them