| The city is on acid
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| The city is on… fiyaah!
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| The city is on acid… fiyaah!
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| Paint a picture with language and memory
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| Beaten into shape with the rhythm and melody
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| My performance more like therapy
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| Translate poetry to punishable heresy
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| And so you know it, cliche’s the enemy
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| Freestyle skill level more like telepathy
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| Word play grey matter designed for damaging
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| Down for chaos, getting up to anarchy
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| And I’m managing, heart beat galloping
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| And I’m actually gravity’s mannequin
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| And I’m back again, there in the front
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| Tryna make sense but sense don’t come
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| It don’t matter, tonight I’m brave
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| My behaviour strange and depraved
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| I stay awake for days on end
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| With an MPC and a mic and a pen
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| I got a problem with space, there’s lots of it
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| In the city, I can’t get enough of it
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| I like the touch of it, infinite rush of it
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| In life, we stand on the cusp of it
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| In death, we dress in the best of it
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| That’s the promise that we keep when we borrow from it
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| It takes a body and a heart to stay solid
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| You got a heart, tell me what you get from it
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| City got reception, cross interference
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| Speed through tunnels, rap feel got the clearance
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| Slack on the beat like smack on the dealers
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| Watch the beat drop, street got heat
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| Not one of them on me, fear not, I’m fearless
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| You can fake fantasy but can’t fake the realness
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| Cause the dumpsters got the landfill in it
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| And the waste of the city, some stealing it
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| And these words are a back alley deal and it
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| Ain’t that hard for you to tell who’s feeling it
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| Cause mama got a gun and she’s holding it
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| Hip Hop interrogator still not solving it
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| Dropout demonstrator, finger on the pulse
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| Can’t ever take the heart or the soul from it
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| Drunk, sober, the night ticks over
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| As the rays of the sun draw closer
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| Shed light on the ugliness running this
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| In a cipher outside the pub and shit
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| Magic, ignite like matchstick
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| Still pumping out smoke with the factories
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| Plug into the feed, now fantasy
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| No game, now to play all reality
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| No switch for you to go and rerecord it
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| Move foreword, the future calls
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| And all four walls are like Mediatronic
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| Snow crash the brain, no trees for the forest
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| The streets in chaos, are the demons upon us?
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| Or are we the beings who be bringing on the ruckus?
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| Language is a virus that breeds in the silence
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| Feeds on the minds of people who devised it
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| Books and the poems and the slang that designed it
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| Reality defined by the words we assign it
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| We gave a name to the apple and the diamond
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| Dive in the depth in the realm of Poseidon
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| Speak with a breath that ring like the horizon
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| Meaning has a melody that rings like a siren
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| Sings like a siren, spins like a DJ
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| Playing for the players in the Arkham Asylum
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| Now hit the replay and analyse timing
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| And look what I made harnessing lightning
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| To battle the right-wing and travel the day
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| See what the night bring, get out of the way |