"Permament Ink" lyrics
DJ Skizz & Marlon Craft Lyrics
(feat. Mick Jenkins)
[?]
Ain't no holographic foil faded when you pull my card
We ignoring greatness and praising mediocre —
Bunch of Bruce Waynes out to make me the Joker
And we hate feeding vultures, niggas way steep in culture
I can't see me wasting breath on breakbeats just to make sure they meet a quota
When the heat is on, these niggas' backbones pasta
Hate seeing Sosas — get 'em off the roster
Talkin' diagnosis, weed is not a doctor
But this Swiss cheese is coming, and I betcha we can find a clockwork
I got 51 seconds, dawg — it might not work
But bleed ink for this life till my typewriter obsolete
I don't speak in "possibly's," already know this
Before I ever copped the tree, already floated
Before they ever got to me, for the real was noticed
I'm already high, ballin', we on top the waves
Know we don't got the patience for these niggas crashin'
I stay out the way — six feet, like Fauci say
Really in it, don't sit on your couch and tell me nothin'
Fuck what you 'bout to say
Your counter offer's coming off —
Please don't make us make a bunch of Natasha Romanoff's... hmm.
I'm penning history, I'm Howard Zinn
And get under a coward's skin
They only as good as who they louder than —
That's why they hot for like a season
And they be impossible to think about without a cringe
Like them beanie hats with brims, by around 2010
Cats talk, I really speak to you
I make the words for why the world look really bleak to you
I made the art for when it's dark, ain't have no curfew
They in channel blowing smoke like they paid perfume
The stench of the culture's carcass permeates a hopeless artist
Much like a romantic, I persist amidst the tropes and darkness
Play me if you want — no, I'm more dangerous than a broken-hearted
Put the game on life support to show you just how broke the charts is
Tiny economies posturing —
They changed the face, and the doctrine lives
I'm looking at these new cats like, "What you know? I got some kids."
I'll never get the credit, but the karma's obvious
Something close to the source birthed me, word to Coi Leray
Got it out the mud and let the soil decay —
Shit that they avoid to say
Leeches eating systemic handouts
Rappers too big to fail getting cultural bailouts
I never been nothing less than stand-up to stand out
Moral compass is skewed — the trauma's on demand
And the helplessness is planned
So forgive me if I don't fan out, motherfucker
Ain't no holographic foil faded when you pull my card
We ignoring greatness and praising mediocre —
Bunch of Bruce Waynes out to make me the Joker
And we hate feeding vultures, niggas way steep in culture
I can't see me wasting breath on breakbeats just to make sure they meet a quota
When the heat is on, these niggas' backbones pasta
Hate seeing Sosas — get 'em off the roster
Talkin' diagnosis, weed is not a doctor
But this Swiss cheese is coming, and I betcha we can find a clockwork
I got 51 seconds, dawg — it might not work
But bleed ink for this life till my typewriter obsolete
I don't speak in "possibly's," already know this
Before I ever copped the tree, already floated
Before they ever got to me, for the real was noticed
I'm already high, ballin', we on top the waves
Know we don't got the patience for these niggas crashin'
I stay out the way — six feet, like Fauci say
Really in it, don't sit on your couch and tell me nothin'
Fuck what you 'bout to say
Your counter offer's coming off —
Please don't make us make a bunch of Natasha Romanoff's... hmm.
I'm penning history, I'm Howard Zinn
And get under a coward's skin
They only as good as who they louder than —
That's why they hot for like a season
And they be impossible to think about without a cringe
Like them beanie hats with brims, by around 2010
Cats talk, I really speak to you
I make the words for why the world look really bleak to you
I made the art for when it's dark, ain't have no curfew
They in channel blowing smoke like they paid perfume
The stench of the culture's carcass permeates a hopeless artist
Much like a romantic, I persist amidst the tropes and darkness
Play me if you want — no, I'm more dangerous than a broken-hearted
Put the game on life support to show you just how broke the charts is
Tiny economies posturing —
They changed the face, and the doctrine lives
I'm looking at these new cats like, "What you know? I got some kids."
I'll never get the credit, but the karma's obvious
Something close to the source birthed me, word to Coi Leray
Got it out the mud and let the soil decay —
Shit that they avoid to say
Leeches eating systemic handouts
Rappers too big to fail getting cultural bailouts
I never been nothing less than stand-up to stand out
Moral compass is skewed — the trauma's on demand
And the helplessness is planned
So forgive me if I don't fan out, motherfucker
