Hay, I don't feel so good

by Plebs & Fuckboys

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released April 1, 2017

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Plebs & Fuckboys Waterloo, Ontario

The Experimental & Noise-Hop brainchild of Ripdae La Wise & Nickk Dropkick

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Track Name: Vids of Moon Sung-kil (Sick with the Crime of Civilization)
Vids of Moon Sung-kil (Sick with the Crime of Civilization)

Chorus: Hole in a wall, hole in a wall, punching through your comfort zones with pinches of salt. Bruising bums. Hole in a wall, hole in a wall, punching through your comfort zones with pinches of salt. Bruising bums with slick tongues without life changing blows from their guns.

Verse 1: Scratched surface, scattered nervously across the pavements as we orbit, the hard headed ignoramus enters fights after self mutilation. Mutiny struck their creator as I stand in my corner, training with my shadow.

Chorus: Hole in a wall, hole in a wall, punching through your comfort zones with pinches of salt. Bruising bums. Hole in a wall, hole in a wall, punching through your comfort zones with pinches of salt. Bruising bums with slick tongues without life changing blows from their guns.

Verse 2: Construction being done at the slip of a tongue, the ruin of a certain kind of man created a path of self righteousness, vain with the veins, chaotic response time wants to force karma into raining bullets on these pricks & dicks.

Chorus: Hole in a wall, hole in a wall, punching through your comfort zones with pinches of salt. Bruising bums. Hole in a wall, hole in a wall, punching through your comfort zones with pinches of salt. Bruising bums with slick tongues without life changing blows from their guns.

Verse 3: Brick walls with so much elated personality, the fist of any opponent would shatter thee, but at this moment as you sit in atonement to some extent, maybe you should put forth an effort to repent. Whatever, I've warned you with kindness as each round takes you closer to your end.
Track Name: 5%er? (One Week to Sodom) with Meshigarse Conglomerate
Chorus: Monday he's a gimp-esque imp, Tuesday he's a preaching pimp, Wednesday he is teaching love, Thursday he becomes Yakub, Friday he creates new whites, lust field trips on Saturdays. The week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life.

Verse 1: Did you know that Allah was born on the 22nd of February in 1928? Only a God can create before they themselves are born. Have you seen what's it like for someone to start a life using a new creation's electrocardiogram line as a chain for whatever you so choose to fill in to that spot? Black history tied in with sexual discovery.

Chorus: Monday he's a gimp-esque imp, Tuesday he's a preaching pimp, Wednesday he is teaching love, Thursday he becomes Yakub, Friday he creates new whites, lust field trips on Saturdays. The week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life.

Verse 2: With a fierce backhand, he slapped the soul out of the seemingly soulless, and now as the earth beneath him shakes he garners a fortress, something that scrapes the sky & funnels the so called cotton candy down to his little misfits below. Everything is sweeter than before, standing on street corners collecting positions for the hierarchy, and the effect of the clouds creates something stormy.

Chorus: Monday he's a gimp-esque imp, Tuesday he's a preaching pimp, Wednesday he is teaching love, Thursday he becomes Yakub, Friday he creates new whites, lust field trips on Saturdays. The week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life, the week ends as he finds more life.
Track Name: (((Kayla-Elly))) She's so pure, dirty, and raw
Chorus: She can tear you up, and build you down, elastic bitch, stretching feelings across a glitch, so cancerous, healing wounds across a bridge, mannequin, numb in a front of reflected fibs. She can build you up, and tear you down, elastic bitch, stretching feelings across a bridge, so cancerous, healing wounds across a glitch, reflected, numb inside of a mannequin.

Verse: On a cusp of a high from a blast in the eyes, eye dropping in a droptop. On a cot backseat, nostalgia of the p.i.c, the driver probably has d.i.d, I fucked with a blast with too much sass, intake while huffing a gas leak, I flew past me with the faith of an escaped convict, so my team stopped, & scooped a conscience. One for me, and a few for them, the yolk of the joke is I'm born again. Cruising while playing Magma, adrenaline rush, so I touched & popped a speed bump canvas. I painted my path with its bloody lavish, as a mile away broad sees my smoke in the distance, she touches herself as I approach, she built her man up so I can destroy his world.

Chorus: She can tear you up, and build you down, elastic bitch, stretching feelings across a glitch, so cancerous, healing wounds across a bridge, mannequin, numb in a front of reflected fibs. She can build you up, and tear you down, elastic bitch, stretching feelings across a bridge, so cancerous, healing wounds across a glitch, reflected, numb inside of a mannequin.

And we will roam when I will roam...

Keep your holiness in check, because you might slip into a mortal coma. You're an endangered species.
Track Name: Erica Frevel (The Wailing)
Chorus: To the floor, frooom the roof, my soul is thrown around the rooom. And iiii, can't dii-e-i-e, and iiii, can't dii-e-i-e. To the floor, frooom the roof, my soul is thrown around the rooom. And iiii, can't dii-e-i-e, and iiii, can't dii-e-i-e.

Verse 1: I paint the walls, I paint the hall, splitting depictions with broken glass. I break down each splat attached. Future viewing with my rulings, internal grueling, watch me roar, I sit atop as I'm sore. So if I knock at the door that doesn't mean you're in, I bury, bumping the night I'm in.

Chorus: To the floor, frooom the roof, my soul is thrown around the rooom. And iiii, can't dii-e-i-e, and iiii, can't dii-e-i-e. To the floor, frooom the roof, my soul is thrown around the rooom. And iiii, can't dii-e-i-e, and iiii, can't dii-e-i-e.

Verse 2: Creaky pipes with needles inside that are still alive, dripping a life or two with blood and goo. It's all glued in someone's head for two. Sticky situation as I rock. I bounce around avoiding the clock. Half past half mast, I dock at the scenery box, not a stop.

Chorus: To the floor, frooom the roof, my soul is thrown around the rooom. And iiii, can't dii-e-i-e, and iiii, can't dii-e-i-e. To the floor, frooom the roof, my soul is thrown around the rooom. And iiii, can't dii-e-i-e, and iiii, can't dii-e-i-e.
Track Name: Part-time Glory Holist Hooker (Alex's Psychiatrist)
Chorus: Part-time Holy Glory Holist Hooker, away from illness, to support an addiction. Part-time Holy Glory Holist Hooker, refuge from madness & everything. Part-time Holy Glory Holist Hooker, away from illness, to support an addiction. Part-time Holy Glory Holist Hooker, refuge from madness & everything.

Verse 1: Legs up outside of a hole, on shoulders, to cry on, moaning tears to romantic violins. The footage of this prideful would kill their next of kin in the land of no sin.

Chorus: Part-time Holy Glory Holist Hooker, away from illness, to support an addiction. Part-time Holy Glory Holist Hooker, refuge from madness & everything. Part-time Holy Glory Holist Hooker, away from illness, to support an addiction. Part-time Holy Glory Holist Hooker, refuge from madness & everything.

Verse 2: Collective dialect, speaking codes with moans, pleasuring zones with walls that emulate a sexual limit, losing touch here is probably losing your spirit.
Track Name: Jesus Freaks & Sexual Anorexia
Chorus: The body of Christ held tight by a knight who sells a few pills on Sunday night life.
Sexual anorexia, sexual anorexia, sexual anorexia. The body of Christ held tight by a knight who sells a few pills on Sunday night life.
Sexual anorexia, sexual anorexia, sexual anorexia.

Verse 1: Freaky hearts play Celtic harps, in arks as armed men scrape, bone collect, the call to God was collect, the sentence short, Earth is but a bles-sed corpse, rotating a reckless force, maybe. Where are you Satan? Crazy. Save me save me says the man with focus on his rapist, the life at the altar, he buried his sins in gold and now it's time to wonder. His mother touched base until a coma, home ran into being an LA angel. The day the earth cracked is the day holy books invented new fables or whatever else. Some of us time travel with a bookshelf. Venomous ticker inside of the boy sucking on a bottle shaped penile, the nursing of a killer, at the door of the century dealers in style. Club hopping with a pocket full of prayers, selling to those who want to run from their fears. Where are you Satan? Save me. Where are you Satan? Save thee. Where are you Satan? Save me. Where are you Satan? Save thee. Where are you Satan? Save me. Where are you Satan? Save thee. Where are you Satan? Save me. Where are you Satan? Save me.

Chorus: The body of Christ held tight by a knight who sells a few pills on Sunday night life.
Sexual anorexia, sexual anorexia, sexual anorexia. The body of Christ held tight by a knight who sells a few pills on Sunday night life.
Sexual anorexia, sexual anorexia, sexual anorexia.

Verse 2: And we bust and bust, and we fuck and fuck, and we rise above as they sell to us, and we corrupt the guts of political sluts, and we build a force to destroy a trust. And we build & build, terminate a face, and if this gets in your eye it'll be hard to erase.

Verse 2.5: Vomit consumes the dance floor as each shot glass increases in size while hands across the room shrink and become skinnier than on arrival. The bartender pours more alternative reality while there is no limit of what's deemed as disgusting.