Cult 45 (Instrumental)

Stepping like a concrete mixer
 All these odd thoughts flicker
 While these soft parts flutter
 Churning all that glitter ain't gold
 By the digits or they got 'em in the gutter
 You can find it where the road hits the rubber stamp
 Ode to the underbelly
 Fold with the upper-hand? Please
 I tell myself "breathe"
 I tell you "pardon my reach"
 I thread the needle through the heart of the dream
 To see which part of it bleeds
 Yeah
 Doin' donuts in an Acura in slow motion
 Cause life is cooler than you thought it was
 Doors open, both hands up, eyes closed
 Taking out a stop light, that's my real life
 Push buttons and write words and say em for work
 And make nerds feel something as fuck daily
 Guaranteed stressed out with a dumb heart
 And a V Chill Vibe but throw a TV at you crazy
 Bitches say "P, you crazy"
 Then they get pissed that I said the word "bitches"
 Then I explain that I was quoting a rap guy
 And that's how my rap dies
 I laugh then laugh-cry
 I was diggin' for a fire while you were gone fishin', reeling
 I was key in the ignition, peelin'
 Listen to the tires squealin'
 Feelin' inspired in spite o' all these flashin' red lights
 I was maskin' my pain but I was feelin' all right
 You were passin' that blame
 While I was passin' that light
 I was takin' that light, tryna feel a little better
 I was takin' that light, makin' somethin' insane
 I would make it galvanize
 Put the metal to the flame
 Eyes, heavy 90's metal bass player vibe
 Slowly cockin' his head to one side
 Creep City like I'm Cedar Falls, Iowa, and that's fine
 I get a "fuck yes" out of a "maybe"
 Make it wavy like whoa
 Surf's up somethin' crazy
 Do's what I feel like, that's my real life