Habitat - Moqumentary, Madic

Light it up

Light it up, boy

There’s no magic anymore

It’s reality

Part of checklist, that’s for sure

My own gravity

Once I hopped in a train

And I’ll never leave it again

Yeah I can get creative

I can control my time

I behave like an adult

Making up my mind

And I don’t give a fuck

I’m a firing up a bud

Yeah I’m firing up a bud

Being lost and being sad

It’s a chronic habitat

Any price and any time

I will find it, it’ll be mine

Light it up, boy

I ride highs with the handhold sewn to the grams rolled

Coast lows with the bandfold thrown into glam mode

Yeah, that mean I’m spending when I’m in it

Got a fixing for them independent women in my linens

I roll, though, with the clan slow through the home of the damn snow

On a mission for fans, dro, and some damn dough

Yeah, that mean I’m wyling, hit the sirens

It’s a riot of the highest, one time for my suppliers

Ugh, this is that mad shit, utterly blasted, covered in swagness,

some call it magic

Hunting for come ups and buckets of dat piff, none for the suckers who suckle

for cash quick

I feel like punching you fuckers, you uppity Muppets who puppets to masters

I run in your club and then trash shit, I ain’t nothing if jumping to ass kiss

I am so faded, this indica fragrant, I’m feeling amazing, forgetting I’m jaded

While scribbling phrases that menace old ladies, potentially dangerous and

generally heinous

Call Interpol, name em this criminal, let em know MADic is high as a attic

And If he is nabbed while he blasting to Gattaca, he might just snap and bring

back a new Attaca

Yeah I’m firing up a bud

Being lost and being sad

It’s a chronic habitat

Any price and any time

I will find it, it’ll be mine

Light it up, boy

Yeah, that mean I’m spending when I’m in it

Got a fixing for them independent women in my linens