To out there...
Speaking of out of out there Where's he He's some other planet, I heard He traveled...
I that's a myth I about that kid one from St. Paul
No... heh... no He ain't from St.
Well, he says from St. Paul But no, I think right
Yeah, he he's from St. Paul Cause it's, it's more marketable when you talk about you're Earth But it out It goes a little something this...
He dug deep in his system to find nutrition for sleep, tossed and turned, only to learn love is expensive Talk was cheap, till my grew feet Now I them on walks with me But let them off the leash Cause might cross the street and get hit Listen a second, I pretended to a friendship With many of energy till everyone repented Now I'm end this a sentence(?) and a sentence become a way of life To stay the night with my notebook, then wake up the day to write Again, and again, and again and again and and again Until my pen is inevitably inseparable from my skin Lingering in the depths of pool of resendential Fighting a million and ten inner that'll sprain my neck into dudes(?) Bobbing my head to keep cool, true, stays on the low Meaning proof for the bleeding, is it in the council Meaning it what you believe to be the dopest at the moment Yeah, he's exceeding the quotient and feeding me But the machine must be
Cause he'd rather give him a than give him a hook So he steady throwin jabs to get him to look Man, every thought he ever had quietly in his book For that's afraid to jump, let me give him a push Rather him a uppercut than give him a hook So I'm steady jabs just to get him to look Every I ever had quietly sits in his book For anyone that's afraid to jump, let me him a push
From the north side to the southside, to the wild side to the To the to the homicide, you decide to set aside Well, pick a side, any side, are you along just for the Oh me oh me oh my, I wish you would die Cause kid, the reason for my sore throat MORTAL (?), the war won't stop till you hop in a porthole And those problems out, child, it ain't all about your style Cause you could break your back to state the facts and make smile the pain in my religion, paintin by the pigeons Strainin while listenin to this brain on tire ribbons Givin a splittin headache energetic delivery as a poetic shredded by the edge of misery Vividly describin the pain inside of entity Physically and mentally, we all pretend to sympathy Interesting enough, you say you don't a [fuck] But much I grew to like through this mic that I clutch So your hands down, and put your attention span up Understand now, man, sound is a dimension you can't crush, when the vocals of that local named Eyedea hit your ear So c'mon, get chair and stand up
Because I'd rather him a uppercut than give him a hook So I'm throwin jabs just to get him to look Every thought I ever had sits in his book For that's afraid to jump, let me give him a push give him a uppercut than give him a hook So I'm steady throwin jabs to get him to look Every I ever had quietly sits in his book For anyone that's afraid to jump, let me give you a
BURY MY MIND(?) a friendship bracelet and a tin can Get business down and dig me up outta the ground when you get rich, man I'll take a round of applause, but won't take no hand Cause the tonight is to balance my bike without a kickstand Now a spoon full of sugar the medicine go down In a room of [hookers], well my head isn't in town I consume what you, shoulda, and that the lookers See the moon and the fact they pushing you to do more than a broom to Tune rolls to your head, and you to see There really is more to life than bustin and smokin [weed] But we proceed to say it ain't fair until we got hair But next time I ask you to think, don't give me a blank stare
Yo, cause I'd rather give him a than give him a hook So I'm steady jabs just to get him to look Every thought I ever had quietly in his book For anyone that's to jump, let me give you a...
Give you a, it up now, push it up Push it up now! it up see them hands, people (Push em up now!)
(overlapping Eyedea) it up now! it up now! Push it up, it up now!
What is he from? planet is he from? He goes, he goes, one, two Up in silicone and ice cream glish mill (?!) (some jibberish) ...better with my wood, E-Y-E D-E-A, bombard bitchy wits of par-tea bags, to the hip Hop around, hip hop around, hip hop around now, now, now Just grab partnee and dozie-dough And just listen to the RC kids can flow, whoa, whoa, and catches breath*