Trinn Kneifl - Want Some? Lyrics

Here's an introductory tune
With lyrics in the prelude
About a child I once knew
He'll preach like a siren woos
Acted out in drama
Read between lines to karma
Stuck with braces and goggles
He's got an afro, but he'll never let you fondle, let the child roam

They let him kick it with the big dogs, even though he didn't like soccer
He kept it to himself, even though he really wanted to hit on your momma
Fish, a beagle, turtle, corgi wasn't gonna be enough to make a father
Ornithology, storyteller, it made sense he'd be an author
His youtube name never had pumped up kicks before an album
When his undergarments were in a bunch, running up the flagpole
If you want some of thee, his name's not in the glossary
And the only person his age with an analog watch on his wrist

Want Some?
Get off one
And move on

This young man's TMJ's aren't great, you were on time, so you're late
ADD doesn't seem to add up, he won't put the lyrics in a pageant
The mood is lukewarm, he is getting comfortable asking you if you are
He doesn't want to be a city with them steroids, but he has a pretty ploy
Got some hot tar in his lungs; no one's ever right, you were always wrong
Suckin' up the cigarette junk, like a plastic surgeon going at your trunk
Now what the hell is luck that you're stirring up, or do I just have eye junk
If you want to gain respect like a running river bank, you gotta earn trust

He was never shirtless, he was getting flirty while working, he got the girl and
Now imagine just what you could do if you're emotional at funeral
By the whiskers, chinny chin hairs cut the tension with the eyebrows, G
Your crack den was a dead end and deserted like Monument Valley
A single daily apple hasn't kept a bottled Dr. Pepper off the radar
These last couple months passed faster than the dying memes in the garbage
Getting songs covered, but I'll comfort her in a duvet
Still pulling out my hair as you've been there with your girlfriend

Want Some?
Get off one
And move on

Now he's gonna travel; What's the matter? You shouting cause he's singing louder, are ya?
Roaring like a dinosaur, he's the meteorite, atta boy, lines
Are the sniper rifle that snap a jaw and finger, ruin your career might
Get your face on the book reel; Eat your heart out, it's a good meal and you should feel
Better from preaching than wetter from your own dreams if
You didn't want your children listening to poetry that was explicit
I presume it's your responsibility to be a parent, he didn't a ... maybe a bit
He's tracked rude customers to their addresses, he hasn't been arrested

Fasten the trigger finger to fling on holy water, I don't need a dollop
Just a popsicle to cool off in from Godzilla baked in marijuana
He was never taught to rip, rap, ripe, write or spit this
He found his voice without choice by The Decemberists
He can read emotions, light a bulb with a lightning rod, conversations sparked
He may be windy, but he'll blow you away and rumors spread like a wildfire
Dirty fingernails, empty gut and pockets lying in the week of the same jeans
Better point this out, this song's about the singer, HA! That'd be me

Want Some?
Get off one
And move on
Want Some?
Get off one
And move on