Pluto

from by Mojito

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lyrics

Who wanna rumble? No muscle, but never humble/ you stumble, looking for trouble, I'm puzzled, watching you bumble/ and fumble, tryna tussle/ it's so much anger, in strangers/ in danger of getting choked wit a coat/ hanger, for hater/ commentary, so yall be wary, hip hop apothecary/ with all them various, odd, and scary treatments for your body, ready/ if-you-opt to tell me you sick, and the shit's incurable.../ your frame is fragile, this pain will last you, I'll murder you/ my current view of rappers is backwards, from what they give us/ these niggas actually practice a script, and expect forgiveness/ lacking in any mercy, usurping power from thirsty/ and worsening, purse-carrying sirs, who surely are Shirleys/ addressing homies and brothers as baes, hubbies, and lovers.../ the fuck has happened to rapping? Raping us of our culture/ replacing our masculinity with ditzy femininity/ no hate on ladies, even women tougher than these men, it seems/ ...I'm sicker than any picture of illness you deliver/ so who's a fixture? A staple? A figure you remember/ was as nasty as a cat scan/ of-the-back of Batman?/ I'm the Bane of his existence, like our riff wth the Afghans/ or medicinal Afghan, I'm intermittent wit that, man/ ask you for a hit, fore I flick your spliff in the trash can/ people be abusing, but there's good uses of that branch/ then doctors wouldn't bank off you popping pills like you're Pac-Man/ now-they wonder why off-they-rocker cops get caught up on dash cams/ reassigned from Fallujah, to-the-Tampinian badlands/ no ISIS or al-Qaida, just brown, yellow, and black man/ submarines at the Port, met by amphibian trap hands/ damn.../ seven tons of khaki-colored powder/ moving every hour, on the hour, get the fucking flour/ yall couldn't handle the uncut, you'd numb up, fucked up, devoured/ put-your-guns up, get up, empowered, like-a-cup of coffee and shower/ uh/ my style is wild, these pages could pile for miles n miles/ I'm loud, obnoxious, and childish, won't turn down the sound/ you've found a measure of pleasure that's been missing forever/ whenever, wherever I do this, I impugn what you render/ you better.../ quit while you ahead, and do better/ you better.../ shit or get off the pot, your ass ain't getting any wetter/ endeavor for greatness, I'm anxious to see the future/ I beat a beat til it's purple and blue, then leave it with sutures/ I ain't.../ breathing with dragons, a volcano is my hookah/ and they know, they wouldn't bust an uva, peep how they maneuver/ they get as low as a tuba/ even lower than scuba/ at least they knew how to duck.../ rather that, then me go through ya/

He dead (yup, yup)
Amen (I killed him)
He dead (uh-huh)
Amen (aaaaamen)

That's how Mojito do tho
I drop napalm on your culo, you puto
Who wanna judo? I'll slap you way out to Pluto
He dead...

credits

from INVOCATION, released December 31, 2015

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