Shout outs from Cape Town South Africa, your shit's fukin' brutal, inspiring. I'ma start writing some of this horrorcore shit...come live here for a month, every fuckin paper holds an albums worth of material. Safe no1 sheeple out
My attempt at the lyrics with help from Closed Captions. Also posted them on Genius. Feel free to edit the song lyrics and song facts there. [intro] Ladies and gentlemen, I'm coming to you from a hole in a wall in Brooklyn it is Friday, and I'm doing this just for this corny MySpace stuff in which I'm on, and a ton of us waste our time on. This song is not on any album this is for the sheeple (for you guys) okay and I will Explain levitation for terrestrials, (in a hole), the sunny side of bereavement, sex after death and the art of embalming, do-it-yourself coffins for pets and people, the inevitable destination, external genitalia of Japanese females, the erotic meanings of Wooden legs, beanstalk country on top of the tallest erection. Peace to Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, Staten Island, up-state New York, the nine one four, eight four five, Philadelphia, Germany, Switzerland, all the outskirts of America and countries that I can't even fuckin' name yet (in a hole) I'm here with [sephrocks?] (hey!) and I'm basically done with b23 and this is just because I have gigantic wobbling bookstacks and Folders of rhymes that I can share [verse 1] Armchair trip, heavy breath medicate oxygen brainstorm Plaid pattern visuals sprout like mushrooms after rainfall Arlington snake throne Modify behavior of populus I'm hitting like Langley acid-wash rogue agent operatives I'm pumping that holly crop mid Rocky potlid Hobby? Not this Mommy and pop flipped When oxies pop, probly got sick Golly gosh, killed a color pop, jolly rock shit Olly ox slit, slag I hang kids on the set like that lollipop kid I saw a cock to sloppy posh chick I infiltrate, terminate, and evaporate the cashflow Most social rappers the CIA, Collectively Ignorant Assholes You'll see hell in cubicle shape, with the mass folds I'm blatant, throwing dirt up in The fabric waving at the top of the flagpole A puddle of tadpoles Mudskipper spitter twenty nine tabs old And I got my own cadence Even if you had a stile it be basic You frock Nikes, I rock lame shit [asix] (what?) But I got more heart than a lion den, untamed Swatting in the center, face painted With the blood like cannibal natives And avalanche stages like arctic cave-ins Write flows in the dark next to fire-light Over knocks by a raven(what?) Talk about isolated? My next notebook was written in a cave Where I was shaved naked [fed in the vein is] Pale white, showing veins and homeostasis Flipping pages [verse 2] These swineherds would follow me Blindfolded if I ask them to in a rap Following sounds, listening for egotism and pastures But they knew it with Jak Put roofs up on shacks Of slave camps where fans love To sit back and shoot up the tack And opium [dens hands bringing?] spoons for the smack Veins running yellow gallons of goo for the usage of straps My skull muscle pumps of fetus and bong On the bath the juice in a sack Pigsties get hollow hit through bulletproofs in a trap CK's cut grooves through the flap When the end comes I'll be piloting radio waves Rioting the youths to attack(attack!) In a mountain by Canada in a Camper regroup with the last A lantern, pound of shrooms [on room?] to the max Like Willie Nelson and a Jesus beard chewing on caps Tunnel under grazing ground Surface on the eve of war I'm here to relieve you all of duty Half buried [beliefs is sore] My flyboy napalm releases spores After I leapfrog from bridge to village Dig pits for the kills and pillage With barely a grip I seesaw fight while [spring into your? hats tip to Kill it?] No optimist is on the list as illest Loves rhymes as blind dumb and half a dimwit World peace is naive in a bit for children (right?) Join hands and slit each other's writs if willing Battle like the [bastions?] of baton In the foster care of contaminated lands No Uncle Sam, no aunts, no nieces No nephews, no rifles or artillery pieces And nobody gives a damn I'll write [dog rolls?] Caustic that became epitaphs I wrestle with deep-rooted Sentences like Nipponese plants Until they grow to a jungle with no pass Twin vines vividly colored biting ants Swarming over festering soldiers stuck Deep in concentration camps And that's it [outro] [?] by a fireside with a tight flannel on he Cuffs his [?] made of oak and elm[?] Peace to miscellaneous, we resurrected this beat, me and Seth, but it was me and miscellaneous who made it in '01 so I'll see you guys on the next one
