Forty-eight bars to Mars in my pension

Never had a problem given my dimensions

Only had demensia given how i black out

Given how I nard walk bar ‘till they tap out

Maxed out metabars, Two Tone Rebel shit

Now i put it everywhere, I be going Halilavić

I be going hella quick, I be going elephants

Put me in your record store I could sell a hell of it

I could sell a pawn to a pawn shop, buy the pawn shops,

Sell that pawn back to the public, let that pawn rock,

Buy it back on the cheap, sell that fucking pawn stock

IPO like whoa ‘till that fucking pawn drops,

Buy it back on the cheap again, cheaper than fuck!

That fucking pawn is going deep again, spit out your gum,

That line graph going step again, twiddle your thumbs,

I’ll turn a pawn to a POB while she’s twerking for none

Zero signs for the evil eye keep up your guard

Those whew bangers in the back, keeping everyone charged

Everything dark, everything grey,

Everything stays a little less clear than it was in the day

That nighttime feeling stealing what we had on the page

I’ll turn a pen to a weapon when I’m fighting for days

—Yeah

I’ll turn a pen to a weapon when I’m fighting for days

I said I never knew much, I only knew me

I know I have flaws, I know that I bleed,

I let that beat knock when I’m running on E

I let that beat knock when I’m running on E

Yo, I got a pen full of ink, a nous on the feed

I’m back on the scene, crispy and clean

I let that beat knock when I’m running on E

I let that beat knock when I’m running on E

Two Tone Rebel shit, yeah, I say it always

Wish I had it back then walking through the hallways

Wissahickon High School, shouts to the Trojans,

Shouts to Quimby Joe, truce I owe them

Understood my non-swag-swag like hey!

Took me to the side, broke it down like yay!

Understood my steez was more than 12th grade

And I never really studied to muddy my good name

I’m a mo’ fucking Wallace, unpolished on the rocker

Used to be awkward now I’m all real proper

Like poppa no choppers, Il Postino

I’ll be the five man cause they rate extremeo

My tunes might boom, I’m a Maximor

I might go palt-plat like my Maxima

With a G4 high you can match the boy

An astronaut without any asterisks

I’m off again, pain, gain, sweat to win

Still put some TAC in my oxygen

And brush the dirt off with an oxipen

And pen these lyrics with a laxative

Cause I’m the shit, swags back, that’s the kid

It’s getting pretty fucking near when the scales get tipped

I said It’s pretty fucking near when the scales get tipped

I said I never knew much, I only knew me

I know I have flaws, I know that I bleed,

I let that beat knock when I’m running on E

I let that beat knock when I’m running on E

Yo, I got a pen full of ink, a nous on the feed

I’m back on the scene, crispy and clean

I let that beat knock when I’m running on E

I let that beat knock when I’m running on E