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young god (bonus track) - sickly rats lyrics

[verse 1: khada]
i been here before
nosediving and then boarding the doors
i have my phone that just swings by the cord
i rather miss than remain in bliss, lord
well, have you been here before?
we think your ignorance too hard to ignore
i think your diss equates to phony cold sores
i think your p*ss takes deserve the light of day
wait, what really makes this okay?
tell me what really deserves this array
spell the word out that arrives with delay
why do your thoughts comin in the form of strays?
fake; thank god, faking in the prod
swan of a young god, shooting for a nom
nodding to sounds that just don’t work
lying to my face is the sh*t that really hurts
rolling in the dirt, product of the filth
it won’t come out? just give a little tilt
voice of a young stout, snout in the silk
what’s the use of a cash cow without milk?

[chorus: sickly sid and khada]
hey young writer, get back to the banks
hey young sailor, drift back to the lakes
excuse me, mister, can i borrow some bars?
yes you can, but there’s a fee in charge
you don’t really care how i go and get it
askin “are you there?” while i send another message
this is how it is, this is how it always will be
why don’t these motherf*ckers ever tell me?
[verse 2: sickly sid]
yo fellow artist, care to join my market?
diss other creators and become f*cking heartless
a good and bad side of your crumbling catharsis
sp*ced the f*ck out, you marvin the martian
sit around then go to sleep
all day, you hear not a peep
counting sheep while saying you creating a new heap
waiting on the world to create for you your first leap
marco, pollo? i’m tryin to figure out your name
all i know is you think you’re ‘sposed to be in the hall of fame
call your soldiers up to bat, we playin’ a ball game
you need 30 other people to help you play a swing
“i’m tryna start a career, can you write me some raps?
your lyrical ability is really taking me back
to that golden age sh*t, nah’mean? them dope tracks
please no innovative sh*t, just deliver, no slack”
build your own fort for once, you f*ckin hack
whatchu talkin ’bout slack? you got that sh*t stitched to your back
and it weighs you down so hard, you built like a hunchback
the one in notre dame, won’t be seeing you very long
people like you get sweeped, pounded out by the gong
your goons and leeches keep preaching that “oh, you’re so strong”
as if you see that beatpad about as much as your bong
throw out another song, throw out the next song
[chorus: sickly sid and khada]
hey young writer, get back to the banks
hey young sailor, drift back to the lakes
excuse me, mister, can i borrow some bars?
yes you can, but there’s a fee in charge
you don’t really care how i go and get it
askin “are you there?” while i send another message
this is how it is, this is how it always will be
why don’t these motherf*ckers ever tell me?

- sickly rats lyrics

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