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blood moon hits the orchard - rousseau ᐸ3 lyrics

[verse 1]
money like scripture, i’m preaching with digits
my life like that canvas, frame d*mn expensive
i got blood on my shoes, i ghost in the chapel
play with a knife, but i never unravel
mirror my soul, and it bend at an angle
like my head in the shower, thoughts never untangle
cross on my neck, that’s heaven within
come ’round and k!ll, yeah b*tch that’s my twin

[verse 2]
rome i’m the pope, and a poet in a tone
built a colosseum out of sh*t i don’t own
red on my shirt, that might be some ketchup
i asked “cordion!”, he said keep that head up
cairo my hometown, i pyramid those features
gold on my tongue i’m the pharaoh’s d*mn preacher
city on that hill, a glow on my skin
chains break loose when the spirits’ within
beginning was the word, now the words in my flesh
confess my sins to jesus, yeah i repented
spirit over flesh, see my stove’s getting pressed
i’m a test to the system, i tested the system
i’m ahead of time, so the watch just lags
future on my wrist, but the past still drags
they want the old me but the new me, sold me
same soul, ain’t the same spirit, can’t hold me
[verse 3]
i wrote this with a black pen, but wanted a blue one
second to none but i still move like, the one
rebuked the demons, we all jesus’ child
i tried that chili the spice was mild
pressure make diamonds, you still look like graphite
your d*mn ego, pride, and self*obsession
you approach problems with too much aggression

[verse 4]
you turned ruby into a rupee, b*tch you act like luci’
newbie to an og, i’m cashin’ out like gucci
codes into currency, smooth like it’s just two pieces
in a world full of lies, i’d lie to y’all, truly
standin’ in my studio, i’m sippin’ that, smoothie
i’m the people of the people, b*tch i eat, bougie

[outro]
this b*tch a p*ssy, he resolves into violence
he got nothing but his fists, that’s the science
b*tch he act tough, with threatening i think he got a license
gotta give him the credit, he put me through a crisis
not a terrorist but i think this f*cker isis
chains on my neck, ain’t gold, nah i iced it

- rousseau ᐸ3 lyrics

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