Lyrics to Aliens Are Ghosts
"Parsed out on this rippity-dippity-rippity-dippity-rippity-dippity triplet flows. The $uicideboy$ formula is pretty obvious at this point, whether it'd be because you've heard some of the duo's previous EPs or you're familiar with classic Hip-Hop albums that they pretty much used as inspir—"
7th Ward swervin', white beams, wheels turnin'
Rolls gold, chrome, maxin' on the reds, bitch I'm perfect, no
Destinationless, let's just wait and see where we end up
Burnin' [?] Backwoods, it's time to tuck
Bitch look at me, she say, "yuh, what the fuck?"
Hoe, I'm Oddy Nuff
I don't fuck with life forms on the planet, bitch, you outta luck
I got better shit to do like sippin' lines out of my cup
I ain't sharin' paste top waste my whole life frontin' dutch
"The flows on this thing generally are pretty tight, it seems almost as if there is a slightly larger focus on hooks with this project, too, some of which really pop, like on the track 'Nicotine Patches'. One day I'll forget their name...!"
I be that rotten garbage crawlin' out the ditch, stitches for a snitch
Bodies in the fridge, blades scraping
Grey ape banging on my chest, feel aesthetic
Problematic, be my motherfucking guest
Yung Christ, master for a poltergeist
Feel like I'm stuck in a vice, feel like I've been paid my price
My wrists have been sliced
Now it's scarred from the blade that's pressed against my skin
Lifeless and I'm stuck up in the shit
Them walking mortals, whose lives will never end, fuck—
"But simultaneously, there are spots on this album where the lyrics can come off a bit too edgy or tryhard, or basic, or juvenile..."
7th Ward swervin', white beams, wheels turnin'
Rolls gold, chrome, maxin' on the reds, bitch I'm perfect, no
Destinationless, let's just wait and see where we end up
Burnin' [?] Backwoods, it's time to tuck
Bitch look at me, she say, "yuh, what the fuck?"
Hoe, I'm Oddy Nuff
I don't fuck with life forms on the planet, bitch, you outta luck
I got better shit to do like sippin' lines out of my cup
I ain't sharin' paste top waste my whole life frontin' dutch
"The flows on this thing generally are pretty tight, it seems almost as if there is a slightly larger focus on hooks with this project, too, some of which really pop, like on the track 'Nicotine Patches'. One day I'll forget their name...!"
I be that rotten garbage crawlin' out the ditch, stitches for a snitch
Bodies in the fridge, blades scraping
Grey ape banging on my chest, feel aesthetic
Problematic, be my motherfucking guest
Yung Christ, master for a poltergeist
Feel like I'm stuck in a vice, feel like I've been paid my price
My wrists have been sliced
Now it's scarred from the blade that's pressed against my skin
Lifeless and I'm stuck up in the shit
Them walking mortals, whose lives will never end, fuck—
"But simultaneously, there are spots on this album where the lyrics can come off a bit too edgy or tryhard, or basic, or juvenile..."
