Eyes - Homeboy Sandman

Time and space wrinkles

It gets deeper than my face wrinkles

So many time zones, time slows 'til I’m a dinosaur

With my name all around the connoisseur tonsils

I’ve taken everything this city has to give at last

All that’s left to do is hibernate and build muscle mass

This shit’s like living in a fuckin cave

This shit’s like living in a fuckin cage

You could leave me out of your loop

Black, brown, poor, I’m not trying to be part of your group

So save the lecture and the swearing

Cause I don’t care about how you feel about me not caring

The magic of my maturation

All the ign’ance just figments of my imagination

I represent the ascent from suspended animation

Sun

YOU SEEN 'EM ON THEY WAY UP

AND START BELIEVING THEY HOT

BUT THAT DON’T MEAN THAT THEY US

I SEEN IT ALL IN THEY EYES

YOU SEEN 'EM ON THEY WAY UP

AND START BELIEVING THEY HOT

BUT THAT DON’T MEAN THAT THEY US

I SEEN IT ALL IN THEY EYES

I SEEN IT ALL IN THEY EYES

Instead of being in witness protection

I’m in abundance or my budding skully collection

In pajamas at jobs that I don’t juggle

When there’s trouble I go to the no huddle

You wouldn’t be the first to try and burst my bubble

But I’m still in the clouds just like the bear that sells Snuggle

Except the bear is in a Bear bubble

Peep the bear

Pair of supple breasts on his beard stubble

I stay in the zone

I don’t swim with sharks

I float and they’re just smart enough to leave me alone

I used to be the one that wanted people’s hands to clap

People all up on me like I sat in front the transit map

Now I keep it low key like a baritone

Remind me of the time I got some pussy while my parents home

Just trying to get a nut and go unnoticed

Anything beyond that is a bonus

Do what I gots ta

Like to send a shout out to my Instagram imposter

Being a faker is nothing to get props for

At least you’re not a fake ass mobster

At least you’re not a fake ass poser

Fake ass posture

«Buffalo soldier, dreadlock Rasta

Heart of America»

Set up on the ventricles

Laid up on the atrium

Hop up off the testicles

I give thanks

The glass isn’t half empty or half full

It’s all drank

A lesson to the fast women

Sosa’s waiting in the lab

Don’t be waiting 'til the last minute

Pocket mad mints at the bistro

The sargeant ran prints right after the freak show

After we ran sprints, I always hit the free throw

I’m Boy Sand, sweetie