This be the dawning of the age of dead water Stitchin every b-boy fragment Somebody live enough to bust through the belly with a fist up This is a right now generation murdered by the fan base This is adored by the writers-Dead water With a still force activated No I'm not feelin alright
Formed by the village of badness and bad karma Punched by the stagnant water gate threw the fickle back But by the window's still three nickels in a piggy bank Caught her with her head up funny stomach from the hunger pains Flashed automatic b-boy with big visions In a matchbox apartment adjacent a crooked starship Who better nation a million's the only remedy Nine dizzy planets with a bullet riding centerpiece Take Me Through The Gates I'm bout as sick of burning find the hottest slacker in a visionary costume Con artist kamikaze conduct Warm for a second to the minute he whored herself to disaster I recognize the cankers by the mechanical stagger As opposed to the skip of big brother bad slapper Theologies who need to keep the cookies caffeinated like a mad hatter that'll sleep now, ask after Calibrate the happy scale when he's soakin wet with a mouthful of dead ideas and see if it tipped zero Stripped ego, tall stories of broad glory I'll be god while you're still living life on a full 40 Or maybe I'll be gramacin, homes poor, broke and lonely Hidden by my billygoat beard and cardboard monstrosity I drink a bad glass of gumption Not bad meaning bad, but bad meaning disgusting Wildchild activater activate sludge enough to dungeon for a accolade and wild ones I committed wild murder, went through the city with a wild merger, woke up in a wildstyle burner Space case, boom box, hate tapes, no lemonade breaks (sweat), no cheddar in labor days Right now, im here to break a point of big system plus my screen I was never cursed in a russmeyer bixon Spit sob stories to confront my dick addictions Of the dirty basement at the graves of Salem witches Driving my stake through the face of painstaking business (checkmate) But I scream Misery (better breath take) Out of sleep, lifted up lobotomy, little Jackie paper and a magic dragon sack of dirty shrubbery I'll be the ugliest version of paranoia kingpin set in motion by the secondhand pressure Some get excited when the sun folds under Some get excited when the summer hits the pavement Some get excited when the bullet hits bone and a board I'll escape through the train yard and sleep till it's broken
[same old]
This be the settling of debt of warm water A mobile b-boy function Somebody mad enough to cut apart the curtain with a fist up This is the dagger in the 88 magnificent memorial This is the heater to a movement-dead water When I broke fifth and got sparks No I'm not feelin alright
This be the windshear dodgin dead water Solitary b-boy wonder Somebody fresh enough to reinvent the court with a fist up This is the funky outline around a classic breakbeat This is an agitated moment-dead water With a burnt future, beaten, ugly No I'm not feelin' alrightTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
