"The Sickle" lyrics

Call up the president, set a teatime
Tell him bring the bloody Mary's. I'll bring the lime
(Hey sir, I'm getting that. He said a fundraiser in Anaheim)
I don't give a goddamn I'm bout to shift the global PARADIGM

I am the bastard son of a God and a vagabond
Me lauded jaw, big fishing rod demi God
The grandson of a cave born lighting lord
The sex chief pop thief with the thunder sword

FaceTime the Dalai Lama ask him who is his mama
90 years ago. I met her down in Punta Cana
One bottle later off the El Dorado rum
We were blackout in the sand, conceiving him under the sun

Mr cock block body jean claude van dam
Who smokin in this MF up in Amsterdam
With the main flock Montauk goose down sheets
Got at AI chick all customized to take good care of me

I don't hear what the people say
I don't see how they look at me
I don't taste anything they've made
I don't feel any sorta way
I don't feel any sorta way

I don't hear what the people say
I don't see how they look at me
I don't taste anything they've made
I don't feel any sorta way
I don't feel any sorta way

Water reign down from the sky when I cry
Let the sun and the earth go to war when I die
Let the rock turn to dust let the sea turn to shore
When I've nothing left to say you oughta beg me for more

I'm mr slick talk lava rock half God man
Who drinkin in this mother fucka praying in Japan
I got the whiskey dick wit Brad Pitt bathing in the shit
A ghost on command post dosed flying coast to coast