Lyrics:

I got so many red dots on me, I mean pimples, mother fucker dead lots when he pop, it so simple, then he flop, itching his skin to bring it back, again I gotta stop, a lotta shit would drop if I only grin intact, with skin a sin but not too bad, but then I sling my dirty nails at that as a fact, my lonely ‘pact has me backed, is you mad? Into self amusing, bitching when itching after the fact cause I’ve been bruising my pale keratin, with nail to no avail I fail in sharin’ in my comfort with ladies, some hurt and scaredy of me, I love she, but she wary of the way I carry monthly abundancies in growing new zits, I’m blowing through kits of cream to help stop me fiend, have a dream to end this pimple popping thing, and that’s a crazy verse, rats! What’s a zany worse thing to talk about, walk the clout of an autistic misfit? Don’t get it twisted, this is me too! I see through society and the boundaries of thought, counties have caught me in they area, I think oh so delirious, this shit so rarely serious, nefarious I hope not, but if I slip like a slope got, and what in me the dope rot, then I be a mope spot. It’s a trip how I dip but yet bet I make the most of it, I’m roasting my own to success, yes it born, in my body, whether I tether it to no leather shit, I rather gather staying dirty, playing flirty, wit’ a zitter style, bitter wild, go getter never mild, had whiteheads and moles since I was a child. Aight, feds no need to arrest me, my brain I maintain just interesting. Goals of the autism, roles I play they awe in ‘em, this my super power, this is the Super Duper Hour. I devour, YAHHH!!!

Pimples (Prod. truves)

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