Attaboy

Hi everybody, hope you're doing well
 Today I want to talk to you about, the different levels of the spirit world
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 I been floating down the River Styx
 Skipper cap, sipping on what's missing from your mini-fridge
 Insulated slicker dripping, winter like, "It's Britney, bitch"
 Crops wither, docks splinter into popsicle sticks
 Beyond the hissy fit, he ain't but a hound dog
 I'm Bamm-Bamm, pianos fall on me and bounce off
 Vampyrella riding pillion through the eventide
 Indecency that deck the halls, an eye in each Venetian blind
 I'm mеat into the Venus fly, ears back and hacklеs up
 Shifting with the shadow play, I show 'em how to rabbit hunt
 It helps if you're particularly paranoid
 Enough to know there's no such thing as an extraction point
 Attaboy, I'm a sucker for stolen bases
 Bathing in open ocean and shaving in Mobil stations
 Away from the hocus pocus
 The nauseating social codes and motives
 The homies demoted to interlopers
 Look, I can help you tumble through the galaxy
 Somersaulting backwards into vacuous finality
 Shabby chic, overnight a fireball from magic camp
 Inspired by a banzai fly into Manhattan clam
 No hands, pissing off the ferry, mission-ready
 The flesh and blood are present while the rest is vision-questing
 Plugged in, gloves off, shushing all tough talk
 Nowhere to be found at the trust fall
 I'm saying "fuck y'all", live and direct
 I make a Judas shoot a flare up from the Isle of the Dead
 I got a network in the netherworld I seldom reveal
 It get a threat to get to stepping out my energy field
 Behold the nobody who show up uninvited like his 'chute failed
 Blue streak, speak in minor pentatonic blues scale
 Doors blast open for the never not backlit
 Never not eradicating pathogens
 Rat catcher, capture both the flag and the bannermen
 Batter up, throw a badass to the basilisk
 Throw a fucking crab off a mountain top
 Free freefalling with the shuttle parts and flowerpots
 Odd hours, I'm up with the spotted owls
 Spot a coward in the commons how he spot a common mouse
 At a half mile, last-minute mohawk
 Eyes closed, ear to the road salt, all I hear is Mozart
 Gale force winds whipping through your floppy hat
 Glitch in the hologram, trick any polygraph
 Chocolate from the faucet, fish in the lava lamp
 Sofa on the ceiling only come down for karate class
 I'm in pajama bottoms listening to Chaka Khan
 Eating matcha Pocky knocking posses out the polygon
 I see you proper hobnobbing with the la-di-da
 That kind of shit is simply not the way I pop and lock