"There’s a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart, that you can’t take part; you can’t even passively take part, and you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you’ve got to make it stop."
To save face / how low can you go Talk a lot of game but yet you don’t know Static on the way / make us all say whoa The people up top push the people down low Get down And I’m running it like that The front of the attack is exactly where I’m at Somewhere in between the kick and the hi hat The pen and the contract The pitch and the contact So get with the combat / I’m letting ‘em know There ain’t shit you can say to make me back down no So / push the button let the whole thing blow Spinning everything outta control Now everybody go
This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill Fifteen percent concentrated power of will Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!
I'm on some taxidermy rap shit, talk about some raw game You're nothing but a trophy mounted on my door frame I spit that propane, light you with a slow flame And watch you burn until there's nothin' but a gold chain Yeah you'll be some crispy critters You'll wish you with us You'll wish what we did, you did it You can't, you kiddin? I don't have a shoe you fit in You're as soft as a motherfuckin' newborn kitten I'm an animal, tearing flesh into bone Randomly rippin' everything gone Unless they forget what then let it be known I'll bury every competitor, every predator Anyone ever forget it, you'll regret it forever Never been nothing short of a legend, you peasants will learn I'll stay standin' in the front like I'm forgetting my turn For these matchstick rappers, this is meeting adjourned I ain't even gotta match them, I'm just letting them burn!