Building Gray

[Verse 1: milo] Check King Cookie Face Born of the Wookie race Hedging beds at all local booking places Forlorn glances at dirty faces Spent a whole afternoon staring at the ceiling fan Business card reads: You should kill the vocal thinking man The role I play in this particular crew They all say I'm far more niggerish Groo The wanderer, milo's a ponderer Pandering the undead dirtbag philosophers Seraphim put the most hope in him Been known my way around paraprosdokian On the other hand I have different black fingers Asked a homeless man: If I die, will my soul linger? We spend the rap advance to buy the most off Etsy Don't floss to test me, peanuts in hand George Carver Punnett square mixed with Dostoyevsky I don't feel I know myself too good these days I don't feel I know myself too good these days I don't feel I know myself too good these days I don't feel I know myself too good these days [Verse 2: VerBS] Way more hoes to clutch Way more souls to touch The only real religion is fanaticism We follow our golden ones Ey, and God told me I'm a favorite, but At the same time I could grow complacent I got obligations and constellations And I'm a whole damn body who fills the Jason, ah [?] Everybody just a template If you really really wanna keep it simplis-tic Still different but categories Man in all sorts of damn genres of his scent Trick, read shit in allegory You know it gets real when keeping it real Gaining some love then losing the feel And all my solter [?] filters got me using a shield And I'm a secret agent like I work for Shield [?] cold switch when it swerve the field, of acting Alright, I'm done