| My brain is still rattled from the shock
|
| When they leave it in the box
|
| It’s enough to call it medically opt
|
| Stopwatch, get a lock when I rock
|
| Let 'em all just hop the block (Ok)
|
| Better save your neighbor (Neighbor?)
|
| Let you kiddies all know
|
| This Snake and Bat is code for Stranger danger
|
| Man, stealing some paper
|
| But they never call the cops
|
| Ex-presidential with a plot
|
| Strange bird never had my own flock
|
| Miami where the bass here’s drop
|
| And the red lights blink
|
| But you just don’t stop
|
| Gotta get that guap
|
| Gotta raise them crops
|
| She pop that top
|
| And the cat is lazy!
|
| Well this Rat Pack is quite flavored
|
| Sammy Davis in a manger
|
| Drinking a Guinness, killing the faith in her
|
| Singing and slinging into her labia
|
| Kick drums hum enslaving you
|
| (Split crumbs up we’re baking you)
|
| See, this one’s cut your steak in a
|
| (Sick mix up of unstabler times, feeling the vibe
|
| Gripping this steering wheel of this car that I drive)
|
| They wanna see our demise
|
| They’ve got the greenest of eyes
|
| (Ignoring warnin' of foes
|
| Like car alarms in the night)
|
| Well, alright!
|
| Even though they listen
|
| They don’t ever really hear us
|
| Their condition is conditioned
|
| Yeah, they love the smoke and mirrors
|
| Watch 'em turning up their radios
|
| And act like they don’t need us
|
| But eventually the fact is that
|
| They all end up believers
|
| Because even though they listen
|
| They don’t ever really hear us
|
| Their condition is conditioned
|
| Yeah, they love the smoke and mirrors
|
| Watch 'em turning up their radios
|
| And act like they don’t need us
|
| But eventually the fact is that
|
| They all end up believers
|
| Can you dig? |
| In a world full of pigs
|
| Who’s coming to pick up all of the kids
|
| Wanna tell 'em don’t live like this
|
| Get an ax in the back
|
| Of the ones with the 'taps
|
| Who been stalking where you live
|
| They gonna turn on a map
|
| Then watch you stack
|
| Everything that they want you to give
|
| Maaan, they’ve been tuned in
|
| But ain’t got enough loot
|
| They all scared of the movement
|
| Greasy elbows, only way to break through
|
| Even though we’re the truth
|
| America eats its youth
|
| But don’t fret, me and Wrek won’t dip
|
| Motherfucker got an ax to pick, how 'bout you?
|
| About two crews came through to
|
| Break through, lose the tunics
|
| Veteran of cuckoo when you screw
|
| Like two nudie eunuchs
|
| Past life in a battle guard
|
| Mad mics I done shattered y’all
|
| Your dad’s wife took her saddle off
|
| To catapult my cattle prod!
|
| It’s true, dude, we bruise through
|
| Them broke molds to fragments
|
| We Tom Cruise that bitch
|
| While they all turn to ashes
|
| Ain’t fucking with no samples
|
| 'Cause I can’t clear these classics
|
| No need we got that heat besides
|
| We don’t need these bastards
|
| Even though they listen
|
| They don’t ever really hear us
|
| Their condition is conditioned
|
| Yeah, they love the smoke and mirrors
|
| Watch 'em turning up their radios
|
| And act like they don’t need us
|
| But eventually the fact is that
|
| They all end up believers
|
| Because even though they listen
|
| They don’t ever really hear us
|
| Their condition is conditioned
|
| Yeah, they love the smoke and mirrors
|
| Watch 'em turning up their radios
|
| And act like they don’t need us
|
| But eventually the fact is that
|
| They all end up believers |