Jak Progresso - Spinning box | Текст песни

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• Jak Progresso
• Spinning box

April second, 2007. At the vault. Mount and go. Progresso. Miscellaneous… like umbrellas.
This is ‘dat braggadocious
One flag, the whole shit.
No hope, hope you croak
Your dumbest coal face*, a cold shit, grot* throat slit, cheeks pocketed, full tits.
Pyrex* bowls lit during road trips,
Mobile home breaks
Harvard homeless, like Huxley against agrarian* rogue poets, toads licked
Eyes closed and ghosting* in a cottage,
The broads* on billboards like toking, technicolour coat glowing, coke frothin’,
Can’t phone in. The new generation of poser’s glope*; are moulded.
Everything’s been done glum.
The backup came. Sorry, there is no next movement,
Just another fan of phase, glitter and doom.
A sack of pain, that’s my flag for fame.
I suck, but you’re badder, don’t badger flames.
My eyes got sleepless rings far gone like Saturn’s brain
I probably think this song is about me, Jak is vain.
Clothed, another plan blast off.
Feet 1000 feet from asphalt, black flag molt.
Puffed once flicked the ash off
Wall built like warders, with boarder control, like [Ashcrop]
I’m the result of isolation and rap songs,
Desolating sun red, sudden eclipse, when the last of the red was lit
He’s dope, nah, bored already: Attention span deficit.
Sellin’ piff, clean record felon spit, hope the will left in it,
Was dead cop’s gun cabinet: deer rifle, collection kit,
My ticket outta this earth vessel exited.
Exodus left any proof with [Jak and click] crypt vaguely decorative,
Movement decretive.
Affectionate during sex with steps,
Lap this clit, Gypsy* to the generals but still rap the Sticks.

Chorus x2
Spinning head, terraform eclipse,
I’m a god; I’m Jak outside the box
I can’t believe you cats stank on lying to cops
Some of this garbage harvested lately shucked off at the final crop

I wrote these latest flows cuz I’m edgy,
Drop the tabs upon metropolitan entries,
Coat the city lights with black [ ] and comedies of a new century
Like, where have they sent me? What have I done?
My [ ] of an inadequate loner who preys on young girls and depressed teens,
And my killing spree will not burn itself out in a frenzy,
But will go on at a steady pace, for over twenty years
Before hip-hoppers can pick up on real,
And the feds can get me (this is real!)
I was so obvious nobody suspects me.
I used to rock crowds covered in sweat beads and wet peaks,
But now the audience is MC’s.
It smells like period blood over fresh meat,
This mic feels all fleshy, fuck common chords labelled
My silhouette is Freddy, adjacent with the machete
I’m invisible. Visual AUX author, LSD drop parasitic
Water and minerals on your flesh stretch mine for residuals.

Chorus x2
Spinning head, terraform eclipse,
I’m a god; I’m Jak outside the box
I can’t believe you cats stank* on lying to cops
Some of this garbage harvested lately shucked off at the final crop

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