Lyrics Pro Tool Robots - Haiku D'Etat

Pro Tool Robots

Myka 9:
I started running up in hips (hop)
When no other gratification grips like pops
As she rides on tops
I slide up in MPC-3000 slots
My double-density dicks
Behind the popper-stoppers emcees think they can rock (nope)
You think not pop (right)
I think so, stop (true)
Cyclopes tunnel vision, erects Pro-Tool robots
Flying faders, just let me fuck with the music and y’all stay stuck with the
haters
While I remain sucka free!
A musician is a true player up to kiss the mouthpiece
Outreach, touch my instrument, deep throat my reed
Plant my musical seed to breed, pure in the savage beast
On the average streets, pornographic heat
This nigga Myka on the mic, laugh at defeat
Dyslexic math, anorexic wrath
Decrepitly, intrepidly, you heavily pushing quick to an exit path
From the virus, Osiris, sear us
High me on iris, I’m in raw, beyond mere common law
Why kneel on computer stool?
Is Peter Norton your highness?
Facilitating your utilities
The sinus, dry-mucus membranes of a black hacker
Wannabe keyboard cracker
Looking for process speed
Surfing junk food snacker
Unearthing multidimensional possibilities
I’m well respected and stand stern while you sing more fowler than Howard
Hewlett-Packard
IBM Mr. Macintosh
A build power, a little coward we gonna do it, I’m a hardware jacker
Apple hats, still flossin' Wallabees and cyber projects
He’s a software wacker
I trash programs moved by these disk smugglers under BVDs
They even keister DVDs
It’s all in the risk of a nonstop juggler
Even within this computer era black man is still a struggler
We all have are struggles and personal troubles, Hubble
Telescopical, topical, tropical
Optical bubbles get burst
Every frame I put my knowledge first in this game and thirst
My throat feels rather parched
Arched doorways of my temple stiff as starch
Stained glass window pane shades like for spectroscopy
I’ll march in side-by-side separation for thy kingdom comes a monarch
And the Arc of the Covenant blast
Pass all class for me
I don’t give a fuck about bitches passin' me
Gas me in chambers, chastity, famous as majesty
Just to be trusted for tragedy
Wack-ass can be Alaskan pipe-line
Myka 9' loins flipping queens like coins for heads and tails in hell
You settin' up web page, chain letter
Check your email