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lirik lagu 3rd eye – vantablacsol

[bridge: bruce bayne]

la la la la la(x4)

[verse 1: bruce bayne]

monk is my moniker

i’m getting drunk with my n-ggas

and smoking on that bone- thug harmonicas

extra eye like a web cam on a monitor

i specialize in the advancement of the commoners

third eye seeing through the trinoculars

try knocking us. you’re not gonna have a high enough consciousness

no enemies what kind of sense i need for reconnaissance

i’m in a room that looks like my brain

i’m battling the bruce and fighting off the bayne

my chain off the chain, changed colors like gandalf gained

i got game to the grandpa cane

you can’t pause the reign. hail, snow, or sleet

h-ll no you asleep but my dream incomplete

let freedom ring, don’t free the dumb they afraid what some will think

one wink is morse code a story told through a ton of blinks

i’m working out the kinks sucka

your girl kinky ima f-ck her on the sink sucka

you bring supper to the king, ima k!ll you watch the king suffer

for the good of the people who’ve seen such a

terrible variable placed in unfair air theraflu

from where you want to be wearing blue

i’m in the corner of my continent with three contacts

like mom dad and anyone who responds back

the prime package devine, the blind batted savant

nonchalantly scribble with the italic fonts

i hope the message get through or i’ll stay waiting

been doing graffiti since it was cave painting

prime of my life boy i hay-daying

hate saying can’t cause i can y’all stay hating

in a room that looks like my brain i’m debating d-daying

keep saying peace sayings. keep praying

[hook]

3rd eye, 3rd eye i’ve got that 3rd eye, 3rd eye (x4)

[verse 2: bruce bayne]

recommended by the higher up

said i needed a supplier’s plug

die hearts get they soul crushed

can’t believe they tried to fire us, no love no loss

heard yellowstone might erupt

empire’d and the land that i love in a lot of trouble if we don’t try and trust

i ain’t talking about the geysers rising up

i ain’t talking about the guys that’s in the ryder’s cup

this is when your ride or dies only ride about a mile bruh

and the debt you owed is so piled up

owe a desert snow powder, owe my life to no low-power

devil and the po-po profiler

and the yellow envelopes when the deals go sour

- vantablacsol

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