I walk out of bars, my feet on the clouds and my head in the stars

I roll like a fruit when I roll up to mars

I′m sticky, touch it, take it with me so I never run out of barsI walk out of bars, my feet on the clouds and my head in the stars

I roll like a fruit when I roll up to mars

I'm sticky, touch it, take it with me so I never run out of bars

I′m feeling like Peach with a parasol

Haters try to hate, don't hear 'em ′cause I′m high huffing aerosol

Brain's not there at all

If I had to be a vegetable, I′d be a carrot 'cause I do not give a shit

Pull a UFO into fifth gear, drink a fifth of everclear

Shit′s about to get weird if that was never clear when you bought your ticket here

Space travel takes forever, dear, we'll be there in eleven years

But until then my mind stays active, holding the captain captive

Break a new record a day just for practice

Fuck it, I′m finished with Guinness, I'm going galactic

Beast on the mattress, cheat on my taxes, went to the desert to feast on a cactus

Then I saw God and he asked if he were to take a break, could I pick up his practice?

First rapper staying on the charts all day

Big step for man, even bigger with small legs

Create a crater on the scene and blow up like Pompei

Maps shift with my dick 'cause it counts as four states

Lap up these rhymes like you′re stuck in the dog days

I′ll lap all you fools, Funky Kong with no brakes (Hey)

Break all your bones when you headbang to my takes

Now fuck off a little I just need some space

Boy bitch I got the truth, I'm the newest craze (Okay)

Boy bitch I got the proof, been on the charts all day (Okay)

Boy bitch I got the truth, I′m the newest craze (Okay)

Boy bitch I got the proof, been on the charts all day (One, two, three, four, let's go)

Space Jam with the Jordan shots, boy

Shit, what I′m recording's hot, boy

So dope that you′re nodding off, boy

Hope for your crew, well, probably not, boy

Hop on the ripstick, I think I'm addicted to making this lit shit pop off the top

Got all my wishes and got all my bitches, yeah, this the new anthem: the Litzkrieg Bop

An XLR's my excalibur

I sound so good like "cellar door"

Subscribe to me like Esquire

′Cause I′m making new shit like a solar core

Into the wormhole, you'll find a few punks who use rocket fuel to light up big blunts

Into the future, we make big bucks, we traveled at light speed to crush all you fucks

I′m crisscrossing flows like applesauce

Made a spaceship with a roll of floss

Emboss cards like I am a boss

Now, fuck off if you 'ain′t heard of us

Boy bitch I'm on the move, better watch your pace (Okay)

Boy bitch I′m on the moves, moonwalk on your face (Okay)

Boy bitch I'm on the move, better watch your pace (Okay)

Boy bitch I'm on the moves, moonwalk on your face (One, two, three, four, let′s go)

Coming up like the feet in Vancouver

Hit the club for one minute then I call myself an Uber

Striped sweaters on deck, emulate Freddy Krueger

Waldo: the real killer, should have figured that sooner

Coming up like the feet in Vancouver

Hit the club for one minute then I call myself an Uber

Striped sweaters on deck, emulate Freddy Krueger

Waldo: the real killer, should have figured that sooner