Lyrics to Anti-Exile
Anti-Exile Video:
(Verse 1)
Past the basics, beyond the eggshell.
I'm pale-faced, but I raise bait like a barbell.
Let me brag, I propel like a nacelle.
I excel well beyond rappers I outsell.
Other than this craft, my life is torn in half.
A streak of hope followed by slopes with a crass lack of class.
My social life is full of bad friends, now and thens.
The ones who don't tend, but assume I'm there for them.
I'm dealing with insanity, but I'm a fan of me.
So I talk to myself about what I've been handling.
I'm so self-absorbed, imagine living deluxe.
I got a short haircut, and a lot of smut.
While other kids are out getting fucked and smashed,
I'm deciding if I should take my car and crash.
I'm mentally unstable, it makes me paranoid.
I'm trying to avoid showing I'm a schizoid.
Should I get a job and be like everybody else?
Or should I stay at home and mooch off of my parent's wealth?
Their money isn't mine, but a bed to sleep in is.
Enough cash for logs of Grizz', this is how I live.
I don't have a girl though, or a future plan.
Existence is too trivial for me to understand.
How can I provide for my kind,
Of obsessions in this recession, my skills are genuine.
If I got my tobacco and a whore or two,
I'm content, and all I'll do is keep consuming you.
Lyrically decapitate, lactate.
Right through my breastplate, spewing all sorts of hate.
I don't believe in destiny, or an afterlife,
So I need to make sure my blurring days are never trite.
I'm a basket case, a lost cause.
A raw artist with balls who doesn't give a fuck at all.

(Chorus)
No matter, no matter.
How many times tried.
I battle, I batter.
With my sublime lines.
Rotating, rotating.
Issues come in piles.
Won't fade away,
I'm anti-exile.

(Verse 2)
Tell me, are there many or any as slick as I?
This takes brains to write, not a fly-by-night.
I can't let this razor-sharp art fall apart,
I gotta' be thwarting with other competition on the charts.
This position I'm in, is quite perilous.
I'm so daring on my errands I turn you to dust.
But I'm a honky, who's good at spitting.
In reference to rap, and also with dipping.
I'm scribbling, one-liners and hooks.
Destruct your rookie looks, better book,
Every cranny and nook.
Locked down, it's verbal penetration.
Laminating your wasteful information for frustration.
Typical Bednarsky, that's malarkey.
I'm more than differences between Ringo and Rich Starkey.
Wasn't into standards like my siblings.
Theatre and studying, not my bidding.
I'd rather terrorize with my grammatical phrases.
Make you lose your taste and age, leave you faceless.
This fits sick, up in your threshold.
Trick ripped pricks, more death than a mess holds.
Can't reign with fame, then I'll dwell like a hermit.
Those who make it aren't always ones who earn it.
Keep on the escapade 'til I'm paid.
Slay your petty rhymes to a bland shade of gray.
Coming from the Atlantic, slant you frantic.
Manage, my semantics make you panic.
Listen to my imagery, honest anecdotes.
Hopefully, I'll tote smoke with the moguls on this globe.
Crucial resolution, only way to satisfy.
I'm conquering this entity with essence 'til I die.

No matter, no matter.
How many times tried.
I battle, I batter.
With my sublime lines.
Rotating, rotating.
Issues come in piles.
Won't fade away,
I'm anti-exile.

No matter, no matter.
How many times tried.
I battle, I batter.
With my sublime lines.
Rotating, rotating.
Issues come in piles.
Won't fade away,
I'm anti-exile.
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