| No razor blade under the tongue
|
| No noose tied round my neck
|
| I tied a shoestring to that knife
|
| And prayed one day I would feel that threat
|
| But that day just would not come-
|
| So I put the knife on that shelf
|
| I had become what I feared the most
|
| Looking in the mirror I don’t see myself
|
| It’s grayscales, recongnition is permissive
|
| And right now it seems that I don’t really have permission
|
| I tied my hands by myself with my mouth
|
| Now I’m bound by my words and
|
| And they bound to come out
|
| Top down’s not an issue
|
| I don’t have a whip, cept' the one I beat myself with
|
| Puglistic fit
|
| Nuts enough to go Kliscko. |
| 85 and 0
|
| Tryna ohh, potato vodka’s a no, no, so
|
| I try to keep it one hunid sitting in the burbs
|
| Where nobody recognizes me, lacking on the herb
|
| So replace it with another vice
|
| Legal kind this time, enough to kill a horse off
|
| Warsaw type crime
|
| Embellish til' I’m Belly up, absent tee problems
|
| I’ve been fighting with myself for 10 years to try and solve them
|
| 82 to 2012 build up to the grandiose
|
| They think I’m a replicant, wait until the overdose
|
| Of overeducated, never hesitated extroverts
|
| Public servants serving the public that’s just a fucking joke
|
| 4 years can’t start a revolution
|
| So fuck a presidential election let’s let em' boo em'
|
| Til' the PAC funds dry up, Cold Bears rise up
|
| Christie when I bully shit, Obama when I wise up
|
| My trigger fingers for the varmints when I’m feeling gully
|
| The bigger picture still can linger but it’s getting blurry
|
| Lonestar state, ready for whatever fightin' pennsatucky luck
|
| I’ll trade a bullet for a sweater
|
| …never hate, cuz' my cheeks stay turnt
|
| Even though I been burnt keep the swagger on learnt
|
| on my own two feet… I cut these teeth
|
| I get aggy I get sad, I get happy I eat beef
|
| Dodge chickens… respect and love women
|
| At the bottom of the barrel the pharoh is not living
|
| Not blessed by no fraud, but blessed to stay hard
|
| Knock off any chest that’s pressed to bogart
|
| No flexing, no jawing, chuck bark don’t start
|
| Put the SNL cast on blast when I star
|
| musical guest, and comical host
|
| Cue cards are not cute, the drugs dope
|
| But not mine… this script is unkind
|
| So passionately natural with buds of my kind
|
| I smoke that new hope, turn that next page
|
| I’ll blaze on the day when I feel we’re all paid
|
| reperations for those that can’t say it
|
| Philip k. |
| dick dickens for those who hate hate
|
| I love who love’s love, the next day will come
|
| Pray to your god, I pray to that sun, in that way I’m frayed no star and no
|
| funds
|
| The kool aid is done, who stays and who run’s |