"Scaffolds" lyrics
Armand Hammer & The Alchemist Lyrics
[billy woods:]
Always late with the epiphanies
Like "Might could've handled that differently"
At least admit you had your hand in the misery
It's no mystery (It's no mystery)
Group therapy, I poured the kerosene in, group watched the fire leap
A shred of truth is all a liar need
It all the burn the same when the fire feed
Men rack our brains over past deeds
Indeed the ground's cold but the bones not deep
Wrapped in shower curtain or bed sheet, the bones picked clean
Heir apparent, I inherited a blood-stained throne for a seat
I can't afford not to believe in things unseen
But belief always been dangerous to me
Slumped in the last pew, the pulpit packed
The culprits beg and accuse, executioner dons a mask
The transcript read like Cam'ron skits
Something wrong with motherfuckers, I don't know what it is
Am I my brother's keeper? Nigga, I got my own shit
Excuse me, I got excuses, I got excuses
The crowd want blood, the firing squad blackened face cupids
It's always two sides to the story
The gory details is online, feel like Maury
Am I my brother's keeper? Nigga, I got my own shit
Excuse me, I got excuses, I got excuses
[ELUCID:]
Free fall, limbs flailing in the blackness, hundred hands slap
Pardon self, sinkhole blast landed
Earth move for a new gold standard
Armand Hammer broke exotic on grand piano
Melting candelabras, clocks blink midnight, no invite, who's the livest?
You haven't matched the meter, so you must respect it
As it pertains to how I freak it, ayy, don't ask me no question
I believe in black secrecy
Plum to the death with language, drown in the thick of spirit
Bodies humbly collapse fetal, eye of a thousand needles
World beat, heavy kick, my city stiff, both liminent
And a twenty-two under Miss Bunches' pillow, she read the room and spit snuff
Bought thirteen babies and outlived all but two
I love to talk with fools, I hate circlin' the drain
And repeatin' myself unless I'm barring on the stage
The price done doubled, the ice pebbled, the mint muddled
A vision, receiving all I signal out
There's a part beyond me, plus chaos
Always late with the epiphanies
Like "Might could've handled that differently"
At least admit you had your hand in the misery
It's no mystery (It's no mystery)
Group therapy, I poured the kerosene in, group watched the fire leap
A shred of truth is all a liar need
It all the burn the same when the fire feed
Men rack our brains over past deeds
Indeed the ground's cold but the bones not deep
Wrapped in shower curtain or bed sheet, the bones picked clean
Heir apparent, I inherited a blood-stained throne for a seat
I can't afford not to believe in things unseen
But belief always been dangerous to me
Slumped in the last pew, the pulpit packed
The culprits beg and accuse, executioner dons a mask
The transcript read like Cam'ron skits
Something wrong with motherfuckers, I don't know what it is
Am I my brother's keeper? Nigga, I got my own shit
Excuse me, I got excuses, I got excuses
The crowd want blood, the firing squad blackened face cupids
It's always two sides to the story
The gory details is online, feel like Maury
Am I my brother's keeper? Nigga, I got my own shit
Excuse me, I got excuses, I got excuses
[ELUCID:]
Free fall, limbs flailing in the blackness, hundred hands slap
Pardon self, sinkhole blast landed
Earth move for a new gold standard
Armand Hammer broke exotic on grand piano
Melting candelabras, clocks blink midnight, no invite, who's the livest?
You haven't matched the meter, so you must respect it
As it pertains to how I freak it, ayy, don't ask me no question
I believe in black secrecy
Plum to the death with language, drown in the thick of spirit
Bodies humbly collapse fetal, eye of a thousand needles
World beat, heavy kick, my city stiff, both liminent
And a twenty-two under Miss Bunches' pillow, she read the room and spit snuff
Bought thirteen babies and outlived all but two
I love to talk with fools, I hate circlin' the drain
And repeatin' myself unless I'm barring on the stage
The price done doubled, the ice pebbled, the mint muddled
A vision, receiving all I signal out
There's a part beyond me, plus chaos
Writer(s): Alan Maman, Chaz Jerome Hall, Billy Woods
