Numbers

(yeah) how you feelin'? (Fine)
You feel alright?

Y’all fuckers bore me
Don’t wanna talk about mechanical royalties
I wanna talk about orgies and forgery
World Wars and some things more important
Than some record stores pretending
There’s only four dwarfs
I’m a word’s worth, four score
Some odd years ago
I appeared like a miracle
Maybe you didn’t hear me dog hear me dog
Hit you with some shit you never heard before
Heard before, Ash Roth, rap's own herbivore
Lord of sore Sportsmanship
Throw shit when I don’t win
When things get grim, I’m Jim…Harbaugh
Times are hard brah
I’m tired of playing hard ball
Bartered with a strong arm
Tall broads, large bra, hard on, flaw
I ball like James Hardon
Little off, chance he was gay
Then he went straight
Only pause for long when I stand at buffets
Blonder than Dolly Parton that’s
In a Pamela phase
Stamina swate, handsome, my advantage is fate
Haters gon’ hate but all they
Say is "Damn it, he’s great"
(Damn it, he’s great) Famished
Need a sandwich to taste
I like my ham with cheese and mayonnaise
Mind your manners on dates
(Standard procedure sheriff)
Yeah, my plan is to wait
Sip of Brandy while you standing
Come and stand in my place, sham and embrace
Let’s keeping it go merrily, listening
I’m terribly
Little George chopping down the cherry tree
True
There’s a moment in youth when growing ensues
Not only are you growing but
You show and improve low and behoove
I’m sowing that my flowing in proof
Yeah, merlowing ain’t the only
Thing that slowly improves, true

Feel alright