| Can you turn the beat up a little bit in the headphones?
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| Check, check, yeah, check, uh
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| Tight, yeah perfect
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| Uh huh
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| Umm
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| Yo Milo why you always rap in passcodes?
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| Cause they assholes
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| Who don’t deserve the whole
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| So they fiddle with their portions
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| I fiddle with my organs on parchment
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| Yes I roll with dark men
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| Failed draft-dodgers and niggas teaching at Dartmouth
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| We was lurking Michael Larkin with the Midas Touch
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| Eat at Perkins and resign to never being much
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| That’s the only truth worth memorizing
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| So I memorized it
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| Then made a memorandum to try to signify it
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| Give it meaning, make it worthwhile
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| Wear black beanies, make mix CDs with Turnstile
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| Join a message board when your house burns down
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| Find your forever shelter in the iCloud
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| Follow the winding path
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| Yo Milo why you front like you’re enlightened?
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| Because presently it’s advantageous
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| Now please tell me what the bad man’s name is
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| That’s the same box that my 404 came in
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| Do you think that your soul will fit in there?
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| A metaphor about the winter’s air
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| Deployed via lawn chair in Los Angeles
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| When Al and I was eating all air sandwiches
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| I’ll take beef for the bandeau and bandages
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| I go totally commando when playing banjo hits
|
| In a palace bumping Shabazz Palaces
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| Skimming the Voynich manuscript
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| Don’t misplace the master’s book of hours
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| And keep a look out for the hook blossom flower
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| Follow the winding path
|
| (I'll be you now)
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| Yo Milo, what’s the significance of the five fifths?
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| And how do you mean you’re the corduroy coon prince?
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| I thought I heard you say you don’t exude hubris
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| Yo Milo, you make my very favorite nigga music
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| In my own blood I wrote it on pig skin
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| We need poems that kill
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| I refuse to be yesterday’s victim
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| Cordial reminder of Being Big-B
|
| A cordial reminder of Being Big-B
|
| It’s that amethyst poet
|
| If I wanted to be the illest rapper, you would know it
|
| Cause I would tell you
|
| It’s that amethyst poet
|
| If I wanted to be the illest rapper, you would know it
|
| Been a couple false starts but we never end
|
| A paradox in a pair of Docs
|
| I pare the locks while they parrot ops
|
| I’m not a rookie or a veteran
|
| Young sage of the tree-tops
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| Burn sage while I plot on their weak spots
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| Two step in the sage-colored Reeboks
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| The beat knocks
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| Vegetarian, I do not eat ox tails
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| Deploying Oxford commas at will
|
| (I kind of fuddled it) |