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Cannibal Ox - Ridiculoid lyrics
f/ El-P [El-P] Shutup... Yo, yo, yo, yo My life's not right check one My life's not right check two My life's not right check three Are you ready???!! (you know this was supposed to be for my album right?) When I send a sickness (ease down) dark soldiers fallin in with flying debris and bad programs of landmines that remind me of the sexiest of slow jams I pull a glock or fiver murder the group by numbers I was nursed by the biggest of buildings and had the sonic volcanic cap that the butcher have attached to his dead mother now this material might walk with a twitch and live for the twisted shit image is of voice cast getting pistol whipped electronic talents fold the realest television is the one that talks out loud to you when the plug is corroded out and they say productivity is up this month but I've lost my passion sick of waiting in line for my weekly chocolate ration its bad health and industrial sadness never helped by tofu franks or ?hedistic? maggots this addiction is more random I walk door to door Mormon style spitting my sick tantrums because I wasn't born handsome now that my life's complete with a capacity to push greatness buttons with beats that have to be registered as sex offenders represented to the public I'll exfoliate your face with the acid inside my stomach Binge and purge, we live in thirty second blurbs and if consumers stopped existing we'd forget how to use words just fuckin' eat each other til the next space age occurs or at the source awards scratchin our heads like what happened if the kids would've disclosed that you all lost if you just ask them out to plant life that sits and looks pretty to attract curious ?and section? angels when in the city that's below any self-respecting actress in a german schiester film who gobbled doggie dick and human feces my fingers tap buttons with sanctified awareness from heart scan to pulse readings this a voice from a dead dimension without astral projection the sluggish rugged discuss bunk that hovers Acme lab rat escape barely breathing through the heating vents I'll try to come back for my family before the poison feeding commence but if I should exhaust God's patience on ?some? better take my place nigga tell 'em it's the love that got me this far and it's in my dreams I see their faces and [Vordul] Murderers is like handles that clap sandals hand sand off tools and I can't stand on two amped off booze wheelie with my ancle bruised on the block silly with a mint ?ellie? watch young ladies hop scotch with the pink jellies that's me trying to wop vetti with the longness and pot-bellied til it's nauseous a raw dog orphan straight out of the orphanage often lost in a realm tryin to find cells strapped like a marksman with raps that'll off kids mad hi got my mind wrapped in a coffin resurrect thoughts in amorphous morph into Aquaman polyin in waters talkin to dolphins to get that bilingual spittin ?charm? tryin to get it on and spit a thorn that'll split a form in half studyin math light 'dro Eaton's love mixed with ash spit bats that stick to DAT's sip snapples and twist off caps when you fuckin with the sickest cats [Vast Aire] Yo My life's not right check one My life's not right check two My life's not right check three Are you ready??? See I exist iron fist metal speech scientist came out the womb of a phoenix expect nothin less then a mature flame velocity's my plane my thought is my train the galaxy's the body sun is the heart and the black hole's the brain heard my verse had nuthin to say I leave your mouth open when you're standin (the word's the midget) esophagus is the cannon cipher unknown the upper hand on overstandin watch the landin believe it or not I'm walkin on air last of America's heroes here to close the circle I still remember the days of Coleco a daily struggle but I hold onto the vision hip hop at it's best when it lacked television and everybody wasn't an emcee you know where the flows be and if you check the rhyme slowly you'll find out cats is unseen like Jarobi and most likely openin doors with the psyche if it's a Mikey, they'll eat anything starving but hack or crush anything not stars from the songs we sing this shit's ridiculoid |
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