P.o.s Weird Friends (We Don't Even Live Here)
I ain't like ya'll, I'm into weird shit
I'm in the back getting weird with my weird friends
Hugging the bass line, when you feel this
And these rhymes ain't tight, they're terrorist
And that girl's not white, she's anarchist
And we float like kites to get turbulence
Woah, bomb like when our throats slit
Self-stitched raised to aim over it
Soldier with no king
