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otto vintage - egg yolke كلمات أغنية

[verse 1]
steppin’ in the lab with a match and a mask
half flask in the bag and a rash from the grass
rap fast, then relax, then collapse on a track
with a snack in my lap, spittin’ facts out my ass
i’m a b_st_rd with a big mouth, chewin’ on the script
flip words, grip verbs like i’m swingin’ from the crypt
slit syllables in half, i ain’t even tryin’ hard
it’s like i vomit verse and let the vomit write the bars
dusty denim, sharp venom, heart iced in a box
weird thoughts in my head like lice in a sock
never nice with the talk, i just bark with a bite
and carve names in the chalk with a shard of the night

[hook]
,cracked tiles whеre i walk at
dust storms risin’ where i cough at
mеdium pace, got a mean lil’ strut
with a dream and a blunt and a spleen full of guts
cracked tiles where i sleep in my boots
od flows, nose bleeds in the booth
spit too raw, no leash up on my tooth
just a beat, loose leaf, and the beast from my youth

[verse 2]
still the same kid with the crust on the dishes
disgust in his system, and rust in his wishes
crushed spirits from the cynics, i adjust when i pivot
l!ck the pen tip then i end it like a rush of decisions
i been drowsy, foul_mouth rowdy with the cadence
snappin’ on a verse like a mousetrap patient
bas_m_nt flow, scr_pe the mold from the baseboard
break laws, skate off, face all plagued sore
i’m the sickest when i scribble with the fl!ck of the wrist
cl!ckin’ pens, pickin’ sins, spittin’ riddles to kids
sh_t is brittle, it bends — but i bend it back harder
i been laughin’ at these rappers like a sitcom starter

[hook]
cracked tiles where i walk at
dust storms risin’ where i cough at
medium pace, got a mean lil’ strut
with a dream and a blunt and a spleen full of guts
cracked tiles where i sleep in my boots
od flows, nose bleeds in the booth
spit too raw, no leash on the tooth
just a beat, loose leaf, and the beast from my youth

[verse 3]
i’m a moth in the lamp shade, cough in the fan blade
lost in a rant, toss thoughts like a hand grenade
off in the back with a flask and a band_aid
scars on my tongue from the bars that i can’t say
stomach full of nothin’ but regret and some beans
with a crusty composition full of threats in between
left the page bleedin’ with a pen full of f_cking grief
i ain’t slept in a week, still i sketch every beat
got a jaw like a lockbox, t__th like a junkyard
speak like i’m drunk, sharp — peace to the lunch cart
weird wave member, just a freak with a fun arc
catch me in the dark writin’ heat with a numb heart
cracked tiles

- otto vintage

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