A Portrait of the Artist Lyrics

Private Eyes

I see a fact in plain clothes

Space show

I'll take cards over monopoly

My apologies didn't mean to come across

Actually I did, I just lost to the Jack of Hearts

Rosemary don't call for the late reply

Five guys and they lookin at her sideways

My eyes on those thighs

That tat is crazy

She got me lazy on Sundays after breakfast cook

Make lunch, roll a pack, hit Wash for a nice new shirt

What am I doin

Look up her skirt feel around

Kentucky Fried Movies at 4 am with no regard

And I wake up the next day cold as fuck the window op

Hen for meal tacks for snacks I need 50 bucks

I'm fucked up but this base line is pretty tasty

Crazy Eddie and Izzy Meltzer should have a baby

I lost it all and this brain breaks on the fuckin daily

Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin

All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in

Bitch your awful your beats are trash

Quit buyin garbage

Push you out

One, Two, Three

Now Bray is fuckin dealin

Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin

All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in

Bitch your awful your beats are trash

Quit buyin garbage

Push you out

One, Two, Three

Now Bray is fuckin dealin

I can't stand these fuckin pictures of these fuckin Kardashians

I was lit from sunrise to the spring of my happenins

Pushed a button, was locked in a weird place

No case fuckface, pushed out

Gross name

Called up the crew to deal with a slimer

But was lost in the babel and bunched up for shiners

And not enough steak to move for recliners so he took one look and he said

Goodbye sir

Hung up the phone then asked for a recall

But placed no time for ornaments and see-saws

Motioned towards the back of Lego boats with bricks off

And these half a dozen zombies cold eatin my face off

Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin

All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in

Bitch your awful your beats are trash

Quit buyin garbage

Push you out

One, Two, Three

Now Bray is fuckin dealin

Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin

All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in

Bitch your awful your beats are trash

Quit buyin garbage

Push you out

One, Two, Three

Now Bray is fuckin dealin

I'll DJ your party for 350 and half an ounce

Afterwards I'll rob you leave bloody on your fuckin couch

I stay lookin like a son of a gun who took his Ruger in the woods and called you up for some fun

I got this pitbull dawg

All he eats is wet food

Shits expensive so I steal it without even thinkin

My knees crack when I walk

So I ain't robbin your house I'm just jackin your car

I'll dump you in the Ohio like I'm in New York

You wake up with a horse head like I'm back to work

You don't get no sleep the kid lives in your head

Tortured heart and soul now you wish you was dead

It's like a knick-knack paddy-wack I got no self control

Pop music to the dome

It's driving me fuckin crazy

Sittin with the babies while I'm listening to Hades

Hours away from crazy days and speech of other patients

Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin

All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in

Bitch your awful your beats are trash

Quit buyin garbage

Push you out

One, Two, Three

Now Bray is fuckin dealin

Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin

All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in

Bitch your awful your beats are trash

Quit buyin garbage

Push you out

One, Two, Three

Now Bray is fuckin dealin