| It’s cold outside, the clouds bring rain
|
| Which then freezes into snow and dries
|
| Polar ice, captured in time
|
| Polaroid pictures polarized
|
| Global warming is globalized
|
| Photo’s sized cropped in Photoshop
|
| Then framed and sold as life
|
| No refunds cause they sold us lies
|
| Soldiers die holding a rifle at war
|
| With a man they don’t despise
|
| Pulverize or be pulverized
|
| Know your rights or be thrown aside
|
| Anything that glows and shines
|
| Won’t always be gold inside
|
| I am a prototype
|
| The robotic kind of oak tree size
|
| My mind’s on fire, my soul is ice
|
| So call it a smoke chain
|
| When I chain smoke in a hall full of propane
|
| Huge explosion
|
| Bang! |
| Are all of you OK?
|
| No reply
|
| So I guess I’m the only survivor
|
| Coping fine
|
| Why, maybe I won’t ever die
|
| Cause of bulletproof skin and bones designed to
|
| Withstand the force of a boulder strike
|
| And blood that’s immune to a cobra’s bite
|
| Hold the mic
|
| Volcanoes put smoke in skies
|
| Then when the bar drops, they start emptying lava
|
| Magma, blows your mind
|
| Don’t put my music on repeat
|
| Because you’ll overdose and die
|
| With a vocal knife, I’m so precise
|
| Open your mind like open minds
|
| Open your eyes, close your eyes
|
| Open again, whoa, surprise
|
| With a flow like mine
|
| You could take over the whole world with time
|
| My throat is tied
|
| On overdrive, minimum wage, overtime
|
| And over time, my pool of thought became ocean-sized
|
| Me, myself and I and Ocean’s 9
|
| Know that life is a roll of dice
|
| You get two sixes, 12 is nice
|
| My soul’s revived
|
| Last night I spoke with the Holy Christ
|
| He told me I
|
| Should focus on focusing where focus lies
|
| He said «don't get sidetracked
|
| Write tracks, create the dopest lines
|
| Don’t just lie flat, fight back
|
| Or you won’t survive» |