Death In LA Pt. 1 - Moodie Black

I’ve opened up like Christ with no comparison

The prairie bad is back the Moodie Black to lap the fairer skin

Terror mirror dap the nap of scarring flat Americans and ripping at the hides

to push the arrows in

Opposite of flicks that kiss the bitch and fist the pussy in

Rarely represented by your hawking bearded-charlatans

Carry rich in leather skin-ded vulture hide defy the

Powdered west the powered death in no resign to rape the holes I find BIIIIITCH

Best father noise amongst the boys of noise of unemployed devoid of modern ploys

Of goth appearance toys

You’re going past a friendship to a fuckin app to help you black and peddle

past the very tribes that came

Before your deathing, accomplished

Your PR, the balding money burning purse the purring earth that put your first

The monster curse the native worst the Fake Four the other black the dollars

ain’t proper

The co-signs are scary, equipment’s on fire…

SOME DEATH IN LA

So we can sit around and talk about pussy

And bang all these photographers to prove things

Bitch I’m up in Paris too somewhere dark and pagan worn

Wearing Levi holy black, borrowing your summer flat

Independent povered rich, human clothing barely fits

Plain inane the pains of freedom plains across my elder veins the same

It’s like I’ll never rot.

I am all you never not

Fade away and sway to pave the way to lay the faders off.

Call me black

What the crow you people think?

Death grips?

Ratking?

Choking on a fracking pill

Kerosene flat screens the terror bad, I’m on my own hide terrified

Compare me to the desert drones in lo-fi… fuck 'em all

I’ll shove the barrel in your eyes away from arrows.

I’m intimidating size and

heavy marrow

I sleep like all the others, but hunt with empty fist and barely parish while

the masses

Probably know they shouldn’t eat me

SOME DEATH IN LA

As I was born naked running pairing adolescence climbing up the EL PASO

difference, rock fence

The valley vultured out and kicked me further west before the ocean in the

middle of coyotes

I learned how to talk fast and drum on things to capture what had mattered to

the person that

I barely had control of.

I danced on top of planks of feathered humans to a

mass that wouldn’t want me

And I yelled at them for wearing plastic clothing

Abandoned to the middle of the country where I yelled at them of parodies and

ruffled those who probably wouldn’t want me

Although I was a crow of bad precision spreading out across the planet,

back in Paris where they barely spoke my language

I cut my talons off and back to cacti where the fairest can’t compare me and

the dust is just as much me as the flowers

But unfinished ego has my farming bad.

I laid it on the six dark,

these people that don’t want me gotta choke me