Who Cares
[lyrics originally transcripted by jimmy dyna & etze]

Trellion

Yo, it’s Mr. Who, Mr. T
Slang officer you see
Word to Copellor and Steve
Cause I gots to get my weed
At the bottom of the sea
Played the whale carcass
Washed up, no pallet
You’s a failed artist
Impale targets
Harpoon through your frail cartilage
Deranged halfwit
Cropping of a strange harvest
Change garments
Spitty spitty slang banger
Orangutan swingy
Crater city kingpin
My famalam silly with it
Peep the archive
Gimme gimme bank digits
Doctor can’t quite figure where my brain went
I said “it’s all good, just tell me when it makes sense”
Word to Nayben
Slumming for a just cause
Owe me money, I’ll be busting through your front door
Smoking something on your front lawn
Copper-toss it, loosy blunt, pure
Packed a cuban then it’s back to Luna
Grabbed the scuba kit
Snorkel check, bottle bound
Mortars [mortals?] not a muscle found
Of course you drown, stupid bitch
Should have never bench it
Alongside one of the illest
Mr. T, I roll with silverback gorillas in the mist of the abyss
So what’s it really, why the showerface?
Hush your beak or you’ll be sleeping where the flowers lay
No longer from around the way, you’re miles away
Underneath the second verse [?]
You thought you can spit it, wrong
Now you peck

Figment

Yo, get out the way
Yeah, it’s H.F. the house of brain
Judas clock count the ways bouncing and refuse to stop
Sound effect grouch to rip crack the shit
Lay snares around the boathouse to catch it kicks
Acid drips
Blood trickling upriver to fuck with it
I touch ??? the most, i roast the duck liver
Went rattling [?] in stained glass and paint cracked
Strange slice on your flightpath, the plane crashed

Who’s there?
[While] all these other rappers sound the same, what a pity
My crew’s actually insane, Lunarville-y
Ain’t nothing sweet, kid, ain’t nothing pretty
Parker Place clique got the key to the city


Sniff

Ay, yo
Parker P., hop a beat, charge in lean
Scoping out the armoured jeep
Hold down the boathouse, no doubt
No sound
Whole city like ghost town
Pin drop grenade, dash
Get it wrapped stay strapped
You get the payback, tied to the train tracks
Pap’(er) stack bloodshot, f? in the attic space
Drug bin fanatic, slag from your tickless
Sniff shit, fucked tons of manies to your district
Rap-raid mentality, slang based analogies
Smash the scene on some classic steez, stash the keys
In the safehouse, we got many many
Your stupid crew will turn a penny, should be dead already
Yeah, you’re trying but it’s drier than the Serengeti
While you’re fronting my crew will leave you dead and buried
Figment

Ay, yo
It’s Trelly then the Figmo with Sniff plus the victim
I’ll fucks your vixen and now she runs the kitchen
Drifting, third person in the distance (floating)
I’m word perfect with that vocab, you know that
My notepad’s been scanned, copied and ghostpacked
I’m like “Yo, who wrote that? Gimme my flow back!”
The boat shacks ring to blow that shit
No more slow-mo explore coast back-lit
That’s some shit dreamer, biblical light schemer
Miracle might seem like nothing after this
I’d rather ship right here for like a gang of years
And hang my peers from the piers like they were chandeliers
Call’ em Dangle people, them acts of random evil
Yeah, we can defeat you, that fucking man’s unequaled
These two ??? smash the scene on some “Who cares?”
Dumb scapes done at your mom’s place, we move there


Who’s there?
[While] all these other rappers sound the same, what a pity
My crew’s actually insane, Lunarville-y
Ain’t nothing sweet, kid, ain’t nothing pretty
Parker Place clique got the key to the city