DESCRIPTION:
What do inhalers and kazoos have in common?



Lyrics:
Feeling Lil Weezy.
Pull out my inhaler.
Head spinning that azimuth of asthma—need a savior.
But ain't nobody save you when you're filling (feeling) major.
Drum-fill—march to a different beat behind bars—drum major.
Bachelor of Arts to be a player.
Dropping beats with class like cast systems. Major fail. Dumb major.

Captain Obvious salute you though—
Yes sir, you earning favor.
You-don't talk smack moonwalk or back wash. You Clean shaver.
Your boy psyched!
Abnormal behavior.
Swag that tale dawg, cause that stimulus will wear off or wear wolf (werewolf) sooner or later.
Looking for them short cuts—you hung up on that hypotenuse.
Can't find-that right angle like 90 degrees—I'm freezing! Vain pursuit!
Created can't fill the void left by its maker.
You want abundant life? That's Nice!
Hope you handle the Truth.

Hook:
YOU STRESSING OUT, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO?
IS IT JUST LIFE OR IS GOD STRETCHING YOU?
HE'LL NEVER GIVE YOU MORE THAN YOU CAN HANDLE
YOU HEARD IT ALL BEFORE YOU KNOW THAT AIN'T TRUE
HIS YOKE IS EASY BUT IT JUST MIGHT BE BECAUSE HE'S STRONGER THAN YOU

Blood guts and Al Gore—or was it blood sweat and tears?
I spun that World Wide Web—deceived—and I'm trapped in my fears.
Hot topic: Global Warming—to be globally cool
Wear that snow globe like a gas cap—Mr. masked, gassed fool.
Still in orbit—higher than a spaceship I ain't on something
I'm just chasing my dreams—lasso the moon beams...I'm on to something
But the tides change.
The bay is empty.
Tried to catch that life flow in dessert; but still I'm thirsty.
Delete that account can't let nothing be the master of me.
I'm free in Christ but them costly idols say they love me.
I know it's silly, I mean I made them with my own hand—feel me?
Good. 'Cause I'm starting to lose my sense, I'm censored, can you hear me?

This isn't chess. This is war.
I'll be the pawn, though; let The Master move me.
He's good at picking up pieces—I mean he made them—He should be.
He's got the power it ain't sorcery—not which is witch.
He's the source—I've been in Idol (idle) to long.
Magnetos? Check. Master switch.

Time travels—life is a vapor—and the past slips like sand in the glass—if only I could grasp it and fix it.
Time machine?
Well, my God is timeless-so-that's ridiculous. Listen to this:
His presence is present a present to all who seek him in this time that is now, between or first breath and our first death, get it?
So I die daily—guess it's good that I'm regenerate.
Stuck between two worlds, man, and this worlds curse s got me sick but
I know that Doctor who laid that beat on death. Resurrect.
Toss that inhaler, boy, keep calm.
Deep Breath.
Hook