Verse 1:(Slug)I sit in the back of the chamberaway from the strangers, like i'm a big bangerfuck your theories, clearly it's a myriadof weak characters, the second to last periodsput the asterisk by ya namewith a footnote explainin the shattered glass framethe gas came, the smile was afflictedthey called it fame, highly addictive(MURS)I graduated like a cylinder, my signaturecan't be recognized by you miniscule miniaturesconsumate con artists, conning all you con-formerspushin my penmanship, pinnacle per-formancea peg leg, a prophet through piracyi still sell, indulge in the ironyand i will be the last man standinscreamin 'land, ho' and sink ya whole damn planet(Slug)Give it up, give it here, i want full attentionsharpen up the number-2, time to start the testinsentences etched into the developmentconfliction internal, at war with ya skeleton(MURS)i got an air-tight alibi, no holes in my storygot some hood homies that can hold that for meit's new ways to get high, but all of that bore medon't wanna be strung out on coke when your 40(Chorus) (Aesop Rock)Let's put it together, or drown separatedo not let? eyes like X'sdo not let? facilitateeyes like X's, tongues like figure-8'sget it together, or bow separatedo not let? eyes like X'sdo not let? facilitateeyes like X's, tongues like figure-8'sVerse 2:(MURS)Here it is, a big day for the little rhymersputtin out a new record, all they do is criticize usall up on the internet, they analyze us, then they doubt uscan't they see these men are riders, all that do is energize uspowered up, you sittin wit that sour cupcryin over spilled milk, mad cause your hour's upit's our turn, better luck next timeget yours, til then, respect mine(Slug)I'm a product of too many Minnesota wintersgo figure, they call me a go-getterhad a fetish for puttin letters togetherdid it for the adventure, cause we know better, there's no treasurejust sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll, and gunsand a visit to the dentist every 24 monthsi never expected peaches or plumsthat's why i speak to your face, and keep my hands on your lunch(MURS)Boss up, or bow down to big timerswe down low, dodgin all you dick-riderssee me talkin to a chick, you know i'm tryin to take her homecock-block my convo, i'm crackin yo camera phone(Slug)I'm hollerin, cause my tolerance is thini'm callin offense moves wit my defense ingotta watch you fools wit every open eyedon't forget to watch them ones that try to hold you high (you know that's riiiight)(Chorus)
