Yo, peace, peace Morning work, well, early afternoon Peace and blessings to Mama Electronica Tyler hit me like, "Wow" This next is gon' feel like going to trial With Samoan bows all over your fouls You got a hunnid dollars, your lawyer's a hunnid thou What we doing now, ayy, you ain't gotta suit You wake up every morning hoping you ain't gotta shoot I stay off in the silliest of coupes Since the two-way in my face, I kept Chilly in my lupe It means I see the diamonds through the mess Royal battler from the island of the left The Dalai Lama might chime in from Tibet To quiet violence in the mind, try silencing the neck Kemetic science and some chess Masters all [?] so use an IBIS for a jet But truly forest all in the sinus of the blessed Still pilot a mech with Detritus on the specs Oh, lord, with the aesthetics of a lodestar Came through the ghetto with some bread and a go board You can still see the sparkles if it's viewed right I just choose to do it to Warby Parker's at a food fight (Hm) I cry to violins Only engage with the ops to tryna find a higher lens, yeah