| Artists watching artist, watch each other for the flag | |
| One shot into the air! | |
| Before we race to stab each other’s backs | |
| Will you climb the ranks? | |
| We’re all staring towards a sun of gold | |
| Without an inkling of what it is or what it’s worth | |
| Just instinct to succeed | |
| Can I shock you? | |
| I doubt it, you’re jaded | |
| Can I create the songs that I want? | |
| Two generations fight for attention | |
| Made of pure oil, nothing but standards | |
| For us to live by | |
| There shouldn’t be a waste of time | |
| Busy yourself, learn a trade | |
| And conquer this before your corpse is gone | |
| Feeding shit into the ground | |
| In hopes that the forest will grow | |
| Producing copies of copies | |
| Until the pepper is not tasted | |
| The bite is totally gone | |
| The bite is gone | |
| Gossip, it all starts from the mouth | |
| Of a crooked traveling act | |
| Naive to the fact that music has no place for egos | |
| From the mouth | |
| Filth spills out | |
| No angel lives, his presence is missed | |
| Tripp, you still speak to me | |
| No angel lives, their presence is missed | |
| Tripp, you still speak to me! | |
| Enraged those comments exist | |
| Words from anonymous, soon you’re exposed | |
| Enraged that those comments exist | |
| I’ll hunt you down, when karma is void |
| Artists watching artist, watch each other for the flag | |
| One shot into the air! | |
| Before we race to stab each other' s backs | |
| Will you climb the ranks? | |
| We' re all staring towards a sun of gold | |
| Without an inkling of what it is or what it' s worth | |
| Just instinct to succeed | |
| Can I shock you? | |
| I doubt it, you' re jaded | |
| Can I create the songs that I want? | |
| Two generations fight for attention | |
| Made of pure oil, nothing but standards | |
| For us to live by | |
| There shouldn' t be a waste of time | |
| Busy yourself, learn a trade | |
| And conquer this before your corpse is gone | |
| Feeding shit into the ground | |
| In hopes that the forest will grow | |
| Producing copies of copies | |
| Until the pepper is not tasted | |
| The bite is totally gone | |
| The bite is gone | |
| Gossip, it all starts from the mouth | |
| Of a crooked traveling act | |
| Naive to the fact that music has no place for egos | |
| From the mouth | |
| Filth spills out | |
| No angel lives, his presence is missed | |
| Tripp, you still speak to me | |
| No angel lives, their presence is missed | |
| Tripp, you still speak to me! | |
| Enraged those comments exist | |
| Words from anonymous, soon you' re exposed | |
| Enraged that those comments exist | |
| I' ll hunt you down, when karma is void |
| Artists watching artist, watch each other for the flag | |
| One shot into the air! | |
| Before we race to stab each other' s backs | |
| Will you climb the ranks? | |
| We' re all staring towards a sun of gold | |
| Without an inkling of what it is or what it' s worth | |
| Just instinct to succeed | |
| Can I shock you? | |
| I doubt it, you' re jaded | |
| Can I create the songs that I want? | |
| Two generations fight for attention | |
| Made of pure oil, nothing but standards | |
| For us to live by | |
| There shouldn' t be a waste of time | |
| Busy yourself, learn a trade | |
| And conquer this before your corpse is gone | |
| Feeding shit into the ground | |
| In hopes that the forest will grow | |
| Producing copies of copies | |
| Until the pepper is not tasted | |
| The bite is totally gone | |
| The bite is gone | |
| Gossip, it all starts from the mouth | |
| Of a crooked traveling act | |
| Naive to the fact that music has no place for egos | |
| From the mouth | |
| Filth spills out | |
| No angel lives, his presence is missed | |
| Tripp, you still speak to me | |
| No angel lives, their presence is missed | |
| Tripp, you still speak to me! | |
| Enraged those comments exist | |
| Words from anonymous, soon you' re exposed | |
| Enraged that those comments exist | |
| I' ll hunt you down, when karma is void |
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