Scab Heals - No Stress (feat. Clade) Lyrics

Still got bullets stuck in my old vest
No stress I flow best while they protest
Still trying to grow something grotesque
No stress it's all part of the process
I lay a hater snug like a tucked child
Start spraying hit you by accident like a butt dial
Still got dreams but I dream less
No stress I'm fly straight out the bee's nest
Still got frees but I free less
No stress my pen game is the best
Still got a cooler full of kidneys
Shotty by the booth in case you want to shoot me
While I'm shitting on rappers from here to Sydney
That's word to Biggie you get murdered by Polish Guineas
Got them floaters with me and a bowl of bennies!
Still trying to charter my own jet, no stress we gon' fly 'round the globe next

No stress no stems no seeds
I'm telling you, it's no stress for me
Swear to you it's no stress for me

No stress, I profess that I'm so blessed
God skull-kicked my dome quick, punched a whole crisp
Through my soul's chest, reached in, removed this
F*ck I used to give, helped me choose to live
No stress an old Vet, drinking milk but hasn't grown yet
It's no stress I'm Joe Pesc', chop your corpse with a sword into little bone specks
And proceed to feed your pieces to a million goldfish
No stress for mafioso
Polish Leprechaun that hasn't found his pot of gold yet
Shout out to my bro Seth, also Matthew Joseph
If it weren't for them I'd burn in grim sadness and so stressed
Oh yes, instead it's no stress, with green all in my old head
Like my team's New York Jets
No stress like STD tests after phone sex
Or pregnancy tests while she bleeds through a Kotex
It's no threats, my life is maxed out like the solstice you know this
F*ck it bitch
I busted my whole bucket list, death is no stress, Chris embraces ugliness
And he humbly loved to live, plus he made two studly kids
He got raped by government, there remains no f*cks to give

No stress
No stress no stems no seeds
No stress
I'm telling you it's no stress for me

Still got bars while my phone's dead
No stress I'm getting high where the drones rest
Still got memories but they faded now
You don't wanna play around with me
There's no debating now
Blow a quarter of that sticky ganja
Rocking Versace my gear make you drop dead like Rich Piana
Still on the boat with a cold Becks
No stress getting tats on my whole flesh
Still drinking Hennessy like it's Gatorade
I swing a razor blade
Miss your lungs but give you a facial graze
If you step on my Earth I'm sure that you'll legs will break
I blaze an eighth
Every ten minutes I need my brain replaced
Clade

No Stress