I’m sportin a buzz cut, cuttin the buns up,
fun I woulda done stuff with you and your rum rushed tut fucks,
tough luck my friend but today’s not the end,
I’ll livin another day seein another face,
and I’m a super bowler with the nuts the bolts,
see what I got in my folder, files and styles from when I’m older,
futuristic egotistic, sin and a whisky,
fillin the quiet with my two timing and rhyme schemes Simon says to me just please stay tracking on, go hard but not off the course like home alone on a Saturday night gettin fucked up send an invite all, tiring but peaceful til you get that call