Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Ridiculoid , by - Cannibal Ox. Release date: 08.12.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Ridiculoid |
| Shutup… Yo, yo, yo, yo My life’s not right check one |
| My life’s not right check two |
| My life’s not right check three |
| Are you ready!!! |
| (you know this was supposed to be for my album right?) |
| When I send a sickness (ease down) dark soldiers |
| fallin in with flying debris |
| and bad programs of landmines |
| that remind me of the sexiest of slow jams |
| I pull a glock or fiver murder the group by numbers |
| I was nursed by the biggest of buildings |
| and had the sonic volcanic cap |
| that the butcher have attached to his dead mother |
| now this material might walk with a twitch and live for the twisted shit |
| image is of voice cast getting pistol whipped |
| electronic talents fold |
| the realest television is the one that talks out loud to you |
| when the plug is corroded out |
| and they say productivity is up this month but I’ve lost my passion |
| sick of waiting in line for my weekly chocolate ration |
| its bad health and industrial sadness |
| never helped by tofu franks or? |
| hedistic? |
| maggots |
| this addiction is more random |
| I walk door to door Mormon style spitting my sick tantrums |
| because I wasn’t born handsome |
| now that my life’s complete with a capacity to push greatness buttons |
| with beats that have to be registered |
| as sex offenders represented to the public |
| I’ll exfoliate your face with the acid inside my stomach |
| Binge and purge, we live in thirty second blurbs |
| and if consumers stopped existing we’d forget how to use words |
| just fuckin’eat each other til the next space age occurs |
| or at the source awards scratchin our heads like what happened |
| if the kids would’ve disclosed that you all lost if you just ask them |
| out to plant life that sits and looks pretty |
| to attract curious? |
| and section? |
| angels when in the city |
| that’s below any self-respecting actress in a german schiester film |
| who gobbled doggie dick and human feces |
| my fingers tap buttons with sanctified awareness |
| from heart scan to pulse readings |
| this a voice from a dead dimension without astral projection |
| the sluggish rugged discuss bunk that hovers |
| Acme lab rat escape barely breathing through the heating vents |
| I’ll try to come back for my family before the poison feeding commence |
| but if I should exhaust God’s patience on? |
| some? |
| better take my place nigga |
| tell 'em it’s the love that got me this far |
| and it’s in my dreams I see their faces and |
| Murderers is like handles that clap sandals |
| hand sand off tools and I can’t stand on two |
| amped off booze wheelie with my ancle bruised |
| on the block silly with a mint? |
| ellie? |
| watch young ladies hop scotch with the pink jellies |
| that’s me trying to wop vetti |
| with the longness and pot-bellied |
| til it’s nauseous a raw dog orphan straight out of the orphanage often |
| lost in a realm tryin to find cells |
| strapped like a marksman with raps that’ll off kids mad hi got my mind wrapped in a coffin resurrect thoughts in amorphous |
| morph into Aquaman polyin in waters talkin to dolphins |
| to get that bilingual spittin? |
| charm? |
| tryin to get it on and spit a thorn that’ll split a form in half studyin math |
| light 'dro Eaton’s love mixed with ash |
| spit bats that stick to DAT’s |
| sip snapples and twist off caps when you fuckin with the sickest cats |
| Yo My life’s not right check one |
| My life’s not right check two |
| My life’s not right check three |
| Are you ready??? |
| See I exist |
| iron fist |
| metal speech |
| scientist |
| came out the womb of a phoenix expect nothin less |
| then a mature flame velocity’s my plane my thought is my train |
| the galaxy’s the body sun is the heart and the black hole’s the brain |
| heard my verse had nuthin to say |
| I leave your mouth open when you’re standin |
| (the word’s the midget) esophagus is the cannon |
| cipher unknown the upper hand on overstandin watch the landin |
| believe it or not I’m walkin on air |
| last of America’s heroes here to close the circle |
| I still remember the days of Coleco |
| a daily struggle but I hold onto the vision |
| hip hop at it’s best when it lacked television |
| and everybody wasn’t an emcee |
| you know where the flows be and if you check the rhyme slowly |
| you’ll find out cats is unseen like Jarobi |
| and most likely openin doors with the psyche |
| if it’s a Mikey, they’ll eat anything |
| starving but hack or crush anything |
| not stars from the songs we sing this shit’s ridiculoid |