Yeah, I feel so fly today
Emerge from my very narrow heel-toe hideaway
My bad, like what people that steal old lighters say
I told the emperor to get real clothes right away
I'm focused enough to knit a whole sleeper quilt
And train tunnels moving through people like a Peterbilt
I found where all of my confident voices are
I'm feeling free twenty pounds on my oyster card
Goin' ahead with my Dwyane Wade looking ass
I want a stupid mic stand carved from a wooden staff
I'm tryna relive days that I couldn't grab
I looked up what Lena Dunham said and I shouldn't have
I don't know how I ever faced the odds
As a child I played grab-ass and shot paper wads
I matriculated up by the grace of Bob
Used to licks macrame, cricket, and decoupage
I'm tryna find true moments
Rick Martel's cologne can blind you Hogan
The American part of my mind's too swollen
If I was a font I would hate Times New Roman
I travel light like a choir can't
A modern satellite's equipped to spy on a fireant
Which is cool 'cause them fuckers is dangerous
I'm tryna learn to face, fuck!

Yeah, I feel so uppity
Peter Piper picked the purple stuff before the Sunny D
Summer pants, all of my receptors up and under siege
Itchy middle fingers triple lindy out of the ugly tree
Snap, Crack, show him to the closest blooming Onion
Reclusive Koopas moving out the dungeon into gundam
Money run along, sleeves up Tero on his upper arm
Sneak around a thousand crows peppering the front lawn
Bite a bat's head off before doors
I forge you the recipe bork bork
Quarter a draw everything orbit a filling biosphere
Pioneer of pestilence my stylus is a science fair
The future primitive is skitching off the pace car
Rebel yell except for when he whistle by the graveyard
If I ain't home wiping spittle off the space bar
I'm tryna be the first jarred brains on a face card

Copyright: CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, DOMINO PUBLISHING COMPANY
Writer(s): MICHAEL W. EAGLE, PAUL MICHAEL WILLIAMS WHITE