Lyrics A Portrait of the Artist - Smoothie General

Private Eyes
I see a fact in plain clothes
Space show
I'll take cards over monopoly
My apologies didn't mean to come across
Actually I did, I just lost to the Jack of Hearts
Rosemary don't call for the late reply
Five guys and they lookin at her sideways
My eyes on those thighs
That tat is crazy
She got me lazy on Sundays after breakfast cook
Make lunch, roll a pack, hit Wash for a nice new shirt
What am I doin
Look up her skirt feel around
Kentucky Fried Movies at 4 am with no regard
And I wake up the next day cold as fuck the window op
Hen for meal tacks for snacks I need 50 bucks
I'm fucked up but this base line is pretty tasty
Crazy Eddie and Izzy Meltzer should have a baby
I lost it all and this brain breaks on the fuckin daily

Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin
All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in
Bitch your awful your beats are trash
Quit buyin garbage
Push you out
One, Two, Three
Now Bray is fuckin dealin
Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin
All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in
Bitch your awful your beats are trash
Quit buyin garbage
Push you out
One, Two, Three
Now Bray is fuckin dealin

I can't stand these fuckin pictures of these fuckin Kardashians
I was lit from sunrise to the spring of my happenins
Pushed a button, was locked in a weird place
No case fuckface, pushed out
Gross name
Called up the crew to deal with a slimer
But was lost in the babel and bunched up for shiners
And not enough steak to move for recliners so he took one look and he said
Goodbye sir
Hung up the phone then asked for a recall
But placed no time for ornaments and see-saws
Motioned towards the back of Lego boats with bricks off
And these half a dozen zombies cold eatin my face off

Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin
All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in
Bitch your awful your beats are trash
Quit buyin garbage
Push you out
One, Two, Three
Now Bray is fuckin dealin
Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin
All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in
Bitch your awful your beats are trash
Quit buyin garbage
Push you out
One, Two, Three
Now Bray is fuckin dealin

I'll DJ your party for 350 and half an ounce
Afterwards I'll rob you leave bloody on your fuckin couch
I stay lookin like a son of a gun who took his Ruger in the woods and called you up for some fun
I got this pitbull dawg
All he eats is wet food
Shits expensive so I steal it without even thinkin
My knees crack when I walk
So I ain't robbin your house I'm just jackin your car
I'll dump you in the Ohio like I'm in New York
You wake up with a horse head like I'm back to work
You don't get no sleep the kid lives in your head
Tortured heart and soul now you wish you was dead
It's like a knick-knack paddy-wack I got no self control
Pop music to the dome
It's driving me fuckin crazy
Sittin with the babies while I'm listening to Hades
Hours away from crazy days and speech of other patients

Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin
All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in
Bitch your awful your beats are trash
Quit buyin garbage
Push you out
One, Two, Three
Now Bray is fuckin dealin
Breaks back it's a shit tax for how I'm livin
All you fuckers stuck up with no pot to piss in
Bitch your awful your beats are trash
Quit buyin garbage
Push you out
One, Two, Three
Now Bray is fuckin dealin