[Hook] So you should pump this shit like they do in the future
[Verse 1] Got a strain un-contained that could turn parade zombie Walk with an army on me, stalked by the harm and armor posse Prolly got me on a radar with a dot These watching, plotting minions of the lower God scene Shit hawks abound, in the town of bullet dodging I'm a Rocky, run a hundred a mile before my coffee Shitty little sick kid, the Gipper's hitting for dolo, now I'm rarified Signal lit verified bossy Fuck your droid noise, void boys' 'noid ploy Oi oi, I'll rugby-kick the shit out your groin, boy Oi vey, the slayers of your harmony porn life Throat fuck your lucky day, the flight of a torn kite Holy smokes, city blown to the bone the death server Fit a Hertz with a burner, whip to the church of murder sermon Just a Cassandra too drained to painfully word it further Future of a gerbil up ass of masochist, that's my word up
[Hook]
[Verse 2] Pump this shit In your floating whip system Pump this shit In the bread line, the prison Pump this shit From the chip under your wrist skin
(You are so fucking paranoid)
I am Sam, I am known to go H·A·M, the full retard Playing taps on a keytar, in the Benz or the Beamer Either, etherlicious or rebel yelling the theme of Son of forgotten freedom, rebel ¡Arriba 'riba! Metal and man have melted, settle in to the FEMA, dreamer Your polluted house speaker, leader Yes indeed a, dawn of the dirt and doom draws nearer Here's a mirror mirror to peer, fear grows clearer Steer a path away from the panic of our era Pyramided ocular, unlided insignia Weirder here's another burner born and big in ya Sector, rectified and fly sound selector I'm a fucking ill, trill, kill at will etc BK to the basic DNA math measurer Better leave the lion alone do not pet him He'll fuck-start your burp hole, jet in burgundy pleather Whoa
[Hook]
[Bridge] Where harmony and love reign No longer do we live in a society bent on it's own destruction Children of every race, creed and religion frolic through fields Of golden dandelions
Lil bitch That's some Camu shit
[Verse 3] Those who know, lust. Trust: the flow is disgust, touch Producto back rap rush, you'll notice the lad crush I'm potent, intact, a black-hearted and lunged-up Tarded and touched, plus designer of funk rust Oh, El is back on that shit, huh? That Paincave Kid talk, at the end of the painbow, the permanant stain bop Maligning my name will holy ark up your squad's face Viewers of the divine rage learn to worship the hard way You get it? I don't fade, just float where the poem slays At home with a roach hazed, alone or with hoes great I called but got a tone: better boat out the borough posthaste