(Slug)
We're travellin' a missile
Weavin' through your cornfields
Leaving behind a trail of ameteur p*** and orange peels
Navigating through this basement
that masquerades as a nation
Practicing my ascitate masturbation
Watching the expressions on the faces
of the ones designated to be the queens, kings, and aces
How many miles can you put on one soul
before the smile starts to blend into one big bullet hole?
(Brother Ali)
Shoot through it as a unit with the best of my crew
Pumpin melodies and memories too
My head's killin' me (oooh)
Stomach empty, my bladder is full
Two year old son a Jaybird
On the phone cryin' and missing me
And I'm starvin' I'll b*** your arm off
Saber tooth tiger, in the night with the sharp claws
In your back yard just to f*** with your guard dogs
Throw a brick through your s*** and cut the alarm off
(Slug)
f*** yes
I do my best to take advantage and props
Put one hand over the mouth
Still managing to shout
There's more said within the lines of your forehead
Then they could ever try to fineprint on the inside of that warhead
Cross Country
Like a little lost junkie
Make 'em hot and jumpy
Trying to get that God money
Steering the van through the blizzards, the fanfare
Pivot when we visit
Spit victim if you stand there
(Brother Ali)
Check your map of this picture, throw a dart at it
That's where
We took a room back for the kids and through a heart at it
Angry like a hostage
Kickin' like a little b**** in one of Dibbs' moshpits
Sifting through your city limits, trying to find the raw s***
Thread a needle with it and weave a world of heads together
'Til we get 'em carsick
Face full of war paint, strapped ready for action
Battle cry just trying to seek the satisfaction of the captain
(Slug)
Climbed over the side, closed his eyes
Took a dive into his famed(?) inspiration for staying alive
Swam to the shore
Stepped upon land
Walked up to a w****
Grabbed her by the hand and said
Hook:
Let the wheels spin, Let the room shake, Let the speakers blow
Let the light in, Let the kids play, Let the people know
Let the roof burn, Let the girls love, Let the heat flow
Let the world turn, Let the curbs up, Cats Van Bags Yo!
(Brother Ali)
Lock eyes with a thousand people at the same time
They mind believe in us
My style of graffiti is
Reason just the midwest sweat out of my shirt
And leavin' with my life essence embedded in your dirt
(Slug)
We work move and hustle with the rest of the gypsies
Spoon feed these issues to a new school of fishies
Swimmin' through a hazy shade of passion
Here they come, the hazeldon has beens
and his chaplin
(Brother Ali)
Yeah that's them, the migrant seasonal workers
The finest imperial wordsmiths on the circuit
Two million smiles and runnin'
Stompin' tryin to flee the heat
Turn around shootin' at the monster 'til he's knees are weak
(Slug)
They call me Jesus Freak
I came to listen
Then I save you
Then I make you
My favorite position
Chasing this pigeon down the street towards the banks
Just in case my my traffic recieves Jeeps and tanks
(Both)
And we wander through this soul
So let it be known
Mama I dont know if I'm a ever be home
The revolution won't have any distribution
(Brother Ali)
I love my son and my music so I gotta keep it movin' like
Hook
We're travellin' a missile
Weavin' through your cornfields
Leaving behind a trail of ameteur p*** and orange peels
Navigating through this basement
that masquerades as a nation
Practicing my ascitate masturbation
Watching the expressions on the faces
of the ones designated to be the queens, kings, and aces
How many miles can you put on one soul
before the smile starts to blend into one big bullet hole?
(Brother Ali)
Shoot through it as a unit with the best of my crew
Pumpin melodies and memories too
My head's killin' me (oooh)
Stomach empty, my bladder is full
Two year old son a Jaybird
On the phone cryin' and missing me
And I'm starvin' I'll b*** your arm off
Saber tooth tiger, in the night with the sharp claws
In your back yard just to f*** with your guard dogs
Throw a brick through your s*** and cut the alarm off
(Slug)
f*** yes
I do my best to take advantage and props
Put one hand over the mouth
Still managing to shout
There's more said within the lines of your forehead
Then they could ever try to fineprint on the inside of that warhead
Cross Country
Like a little lost junkie
Make 'em hot and jumpy
Trying to get that God money
Steering the van through the blizzards, the fanfare
Pivot when we visit
Spit victim if you stand there
(Brother Ali)
Check your map of this picture, throw a dart at it
That's where
We took a room back for the kids and through a heart at it
Angry like a hostage
Kickin' like a little b**** in one of Dibbs' moshpits
Sifting through your city limits, trying to find the raw s***
Thread a needle with it and weave a world of heads together
'Til we get 'em carsick
Face full of war paint, strapped ready for action
Battle cry just trying to seek the satisfaction of the captain
(Slug)
Climbed over the side, closed his eyes
Took a dive into his famed(?) inspiration for staying alive
Swam to the shore
Stepped upon land
Walked up to a w****
Grabbed her by the hand and said
Hook:
Let the wheels spin, Let the room shake, Let the speakers blow
Let the light in, Let the kids play, Let the people know
Let the roof burn, Let the girls love, Let the heat flow
Let the world turn, Let the curbs up, Cats Van Bags Yo!
(Brother Ali)
Lock eyes with a thousand people at the same time
They mind believe in us
My style of graffiti is
Reason just the midwest sweat out of my shirt
And leavin' with my life essence embedded in your dirt
(Slug)
We work move and hustle with the rest of the gypsies
Spoon feed these issues to a new school of fishies
Swimmin' through a hazy shade of passion
Here they come, the hazeldon has beens
and his chaplin
(Brother Ali)
Yeah that's them, the migrant seasonal workers
The finest imperial wordsmiths on the circuit
Two million smiles and runnin'
Stompin' tryin to flee the heat
Turn around shootin' at the monster 'til he's knees are weak
(Slug)
They call me Jesus Freak
I came to listen
Then I save you
Then I make you
My favorite position
Chasing this pigeon down the street towards the banks
Just in case my my traffic recieves Jeeps and tanks
(Both)
And we wander through this soul
So let it be known
Mama I dont know if I'm a ever be home
The revolution won't have any distribution
(Brother Ali)
I love my son and my music so I gotta keep it movin' like
Hook