(When you leave this building tonight, I promise you will never be the same)
Verse 1: Poor little criminal, timid stockade Rib visit, isn't full, digital age Simple Simon diamond dog climb calling case You do not pay your taxes put you back on your base
King's in the cape, many ate the pork rind Like dead feather baked in the lake of pour wine Fold what you're told, hold your golden horse hide For when the levee breaks and your make-up war cries
I'll walk the line with my socks full of filth The tilt-a-whirl, woozy, bluesy box full of films That jog with my memoirs to the top of the hill And knows what don't kill me, means the oxygen will
Flocks bring the pills watch the leaders drive by With temporary tags and a bag full of bribes Tribes with a tear are in earshots of wife Learn to read the meter and [sub Cedars-Sinai/cyanide]
Peter piped pie so he rolled on the meece And made them cutters into what they sold on the streets Every hat, every glove, every scarf, every fleece Now we've incorporated and get paid off disease cause
Hook: Hey now, there's no one to save now [That lame clown] that wait till you lay down The same mouths [that claim you were great now] Parade around [angry] with their blades out X2
Stop when the missile drop, isn't God straight? (Get with their blades out) Stop when the missile drop, isn't God strange?
Verse 2: Nonstop if you rock, with it octane Pole position hop six o'clock train Willed em all, give a call, and if not pray To leaky nose CEO Ichabod Crane
Mister spot stain like some Greaser that's gone AWOL they face on degrees and beyond Leave home, destroy, Ponyboy bleach it blonde We will get at you dog by who Cesar Millan
Fold down the frame put your face on the bills They bellied you up healthy but you paid through the gills Argonaut, art is not Jason and Jill It's little Jackie Paper makes your name off your will
And you can stay at home, get your postpartum med And tell the boss you'll be in by the close part of next Tuesday with a goose egg and an old army vet Get the pistol bring the hymnals from the postcarded edge cause
Hook: Hey now, there's no one to save now [That lame clown] that wait till you lay down The same mouths [that claim you were great now] Parade around [angry] with their blades out X2