Weird Friends - P.O.S

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