Who Killed the Vibe?

Out with the old is killing the rhythm of things

I told them cling to sillier things

The king with a spring in his step to action

Spitting a million things, about a dozen of which are relevant

Pick a poison mine is evident self destructing in my element

Petulant, prevalent, moving malevolent spinning my spastic antics

You're lacking attention like a broken record Slathered in dust

You lack a dimension, rusty crust of others thoughts and phrases mangled up

I pity the man that wanna start stepping when I'm half peddling

Some bed wetting, wet wipe shit in my setting

Didn't amount to much and loud as fuck

Abrasive basic stuck is stasis blowing the payslip