Artist : FRANCIS, SAGE
Album : The Known Unsoldier

I don't look at myself in the mirror because I'm a narcissist
I simply like to watch myself exist...
Now I'm in a fog and mist...
Now my reflection is anonymous
Ponder this!

I've seen a reflection of my soul in the store window
Caught in limbo 'cause I was dressed all in Timbo's
Having fantasies of playing Polo with Ralph Lauren on a Tommy Hill
And my paper thin spirit was still grieving from the Versace kill in Florida
Opened the door to the store and I walked down the corridor
to see they had a blow out sale on Nautica
I've always been a Lord of the button down Flies
Being they were half-priced, I pass 'em on by looking for Levis
But Guess what? All my favorite clothing lines and hip designs
Were being liquidized and it made me sick to my eyes
I don't understand, when I had no ends, the price was quick to rise
I'd buy a pair of trends even if it didn't fit my size
Purchase a surplus of fads from merchants whose ads
Made these cheap ass fabrics that were so worthless and sad
Just look priceless, they used unethical devices to attack my sense of
self-worth during my prepubescent crisis
It fed into my insecurities, so instead of being righteous
I want everyone to see me like this
It's all about who looks the nicest
Ice is falling off my Rolie onto my body, shoot!
I hope to hell it doesn't melt and ruin my Armani suit
While I'm sweatin' this,some kid who doesn't got any loot
Is buying my necklace along with my same exact khakis and army boots
What?! This is blasphemous!
Since Adidas tried changing its logo
there ain't been nothing as wack as this
It's probably a stunt being pulled by Animal Rights activists
Because of all that Third World country garbage but I'm a pacifist
So while these monkeys sweat over my name brands that exchange hands
From enslaved lands, I wonder if I'm the same man
Without reward...for what I bought but CAN'T still afford
This is the type of self-realization that might have killed the Lord
I didn't mind working free as a walking billboard
But now I want my money back...as the ice spilled and poured
Onto the floor I did see a distorted reflection of my Nike hat
I don't know how others might react
For me it was an unsightly act that helped me get my psyche back
I stood 5 feet back, afraid that it might strike me like Shaclack clack!
Ya'll think I'm kidding? It's not big thing
What I seen made my heart hurt, stomach turn, throat burn, teeth cringe
spine tingle, and ribs sting
I noticed that the swoosh symbol was nothing but a whip in mid-swing..

I don't look at myself in the mirror because I'm a narcissist
I simply like to watch myself exist...
I'm in a fog and mist...

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Artist : FRANCIS, SAGE
Album : The Known Unsoldier

I know I look good.
Stop sweatin' me.

I'm makin' myself look pretty
I'm makin' myself look pretty for you
I'm makin' myself look prettier

Let me rub my back against the notches on your bedpost
To scratch these afterthoughts off my flesh and shed ghosts
My head's close to your closet door.
I've got the glass to my ear. My nose is in your
business (I smell something fishy here.)
I hear bones rattling. Poems battling for space and time
Phones that'll ring when I make judgment calls with pick-up lines
Sexual hang-ups leave me waiting nude and while alone
It gets aggrivating masterbating to a dial tone.
I'm the home to run-away trains of thought
My one track mind is a collision intercourse where victim's cross,
Bedroom eyes...uncross their legs exposing inner thighs
I disrobe and show my most convincing disguise.
I've lived so many lives each death has left my face scarred
Hid so many lies under my breath that I can't face God
Dig into my mind deep enough you'll find a graveyard
I get nervous bodies will resurface every time it rains hard
"Don't cry, girl." Let me outline your short comings
My world is full of them and they're all in the long runnings
It's all fun and games. It's all done in vain. It's all a fucking shame
I ain't the one but I'm the one to complain?
I'm the one to come home.Compare.Contrast.Come fast
Make love to the present, fuck the past
Make love to the present, fuck the past.Nothing lasts
Don't you dare worry about the morning aftermath

I'm makin' myself look pretty
I'm makin' myself look pretty for you
I'm makin' myself look prettier

Taking an acid bath, pissing on the shower curtain
The gal just laughs and starts dissing my towel turban
I had to ask if she knew how to listen now I'm certain
Now my task is just to get up in her like I was a surgeon!
I'm a virgin who makes exceptions at sunset
My dirty skin gets cleansed by the summer sweat
"Self, have some respect! I don't need you new and clean
But I don't want the procedure routine!"
A screw machine!with a few bolts loose.robot response touch tone
Hair trigger, happy-go-lucky emotion monger wants a love poem
Run home.dip into your closet and jump bones
Your secret admirer's stuck higher up and he's unknown.
Looking down on you.can you bare the burden?my ears are hurting
I found a few gears are turning
With squeaky wheels.they get the grease cuz its a damn nuisance
Understand the blueprints for our mechanical movements.
It never ran smooth since we abused the Earth
Grabbed a hand full of pubics and removed the turf
Refused its worth, we lose our shirts.she assumed the worst
And needed proof of birth? I'm leaving this universe.
It seems doomed and cursed.see if you come first then come fast
Come here.Come back.Compare.Contrast
Complain.Constrain.Constantly ask,
Complicated questions contain scientific answers in your flask
Condone.Condemn.Come home.Come friend
Confuse.Common issues.Condelude.Comprehend
Carma.Chameleon.Come again?
Continue to come in you.Come to daddy.Condescend
Come and bring us (Confidence). Cunnilingus (Compliments)
Come to thank us went from guilty conscienceness to common sense
Calm down.Complete.Compound.Come eat
Our Common ground meat from man-made concrete
Come to the street.Conquer the weak.Come to terms with coming last
Make love to the present, fuck the past
Make love to the present, fuck the past.Nothing lasts
Don't you dare worry about the morning aftermath.

I'm makin' myself look pretty
I'm makin' myself look pretty for you
I'm makin' myself look prettier

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Artist : FRANCIS, SAGE
Album : The Known Unsoldier

[People talking:]
I'm tired of hearing of young fellows, who think you know it all.
You know nothing, you have not seen a shot fired,
and you're waving the damn flag.

Frank, what's that man?

I'm just watching some bullshit.
On the news. It's fucking bullshit.
Reporters trying to win a fucking emmy.

Makeshift patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself at half mast.
[x3]

It's the makeshift,
The patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself for your live telecast.

Coming live from my own funeral
Beautiful weather offered a nice shine,
Which is suitable for a full view of a forever altered skyline.
It's times like these I freestyle biased opinions every other sentence.
My journalist ethic slips when I pass them off as objectives.
Don't give me that ethical shit.
I've got exclusive, explicit images to present to impressionable american kids,
and it's time to show this world how big our edifice is.
That's exactly how they attacked,
when a typically dark-skinned disney villain.
Use civillians against civillians and charge the trojan horse into our buildings.
Using commercial aviation as instruments of destruction.
Pregnant women couldn't protect their children;
wheelchairs were stairway obstructions.
I had to back-pedal from the shower of glass and metal,
wondering if after it settles,
we'll find who provided power to radical rebels.
The melting pot seems to be calling the kettle black when it boils over,
but only on our own soil,
so the little boy holds a toy soldier,
and waits for the suit and tie to come home.
We won't wait till he's older, though,
before we destroy hopes for a colder war to end.
I'll get a close-up of his head.

Makeshift patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself at half mast.
[x3]

It's the makeshift,
The patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself while the stock markets crash.

The city is covered in inches of muck.
I see some more pictures of victims are up
Grieving mothers are thinking their children are stuck,
leaping lovers are making descisions to jump while holding hands,
to escape the brutal heat;
sometimes in groups of three.
The fallout was far beyond the toxic clouds where people look like debris
but all they say when all was said,
beyond the talking heads,
was the bloody dust with legs,
looking like the walking dead calling for meds.
All the hospitals overwhelmed,
volunteers need to go the hell home.
Moments of silence for firefighters were interrupted by cell phones.
Who's going to make that call, to increase an unknown death toll?
Its the one we rally behind.
He's got a megaphone, promising to make heads roll.
We'd cheer him on, but asbestos is affecting our breath control.
The less we know, the more they fabricate,
the easier it is to sell souls.

[Man talking:]
There is a new price on freedom, so buy into it while supplies last.
Changes need to be made;
no more curbside baggage,
seven pm curfew,
racial profiling will continue with less bitching.
We've unified over who to kill, so until I find more relevant scripture to quote,
remember, our kind is bigger, stronger, smarter, and much wealthier.
So wave those flags with pride, especially the white part.

We're selling addictive, twenty-four hour candlelight vigils on TV.
Freedom will be defended at the cost of civil liberties.
The viewers are glued to television screens, stuck,
'cause lots of things seem too sick.
I use opportunities to pluck heartstrings for theme music.
I'll show you which culture to pump your fist at,
which foot is right to kiss.
We don't really know who the culprit is yet,
but he looks like this.
We know who the heroes are,
they're not the xenophobes who act hard.
We taught that dog to squat,
how dare he do that shit in our own back yard.
They happen to scar our financial state,
and char our landscape.
Can you count how many times so far I ran back the same damn tape?
While the cameraman creates news and shoves it down our throats,
on the west bank, with the ten second clip put on constant loop to provoke US angst.
So get your tanks and load your guns and hold your sons in a family huddle,
'cause even if we win this tug of war and even the score,
humanity struggles.
There's a need of blood for what's been uncovered under the rubble;
some of them dug for answers in the mess,
but the rest were looking for trouble.

Makeshift patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself at half mast.
[x3]

It's the makeshift,
The patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself.
Don't waive your rights with your flags.

[Two people talking:]
Seriously, if I want to find out anything, I'm not going to read Time Magazine,
I'm not going to read Newsweek, I'm not going to read any of these magazines.
I mean, because they've just got too much to lose by printing the truth,
you know that.

What kinds of truths are they omitting?

Well, anything.
Even on a worldwide basis.
They'd just go off the stands in a day if they printed really the truth.

What is really the truth?

Well, really the truth is just a plain picture.

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Artist : FRANCIS, SAGE
Album : The Known Unsoldier

[Intro:]
Yeah, check this. Uh. Sage Francis

In an effort to salvage even the slightest percentage of what I once had
Has left me with vital organs, which much has hemorrhaged
My innards twist and turn, I'm convinced that sin is learned
Their lesson once the minutes burn, not their soul
I'm sick with concern about my operative role
Deadbeat inhabitants
On planet Earth
Are programmed at birth to be apathetic at events
Even if athletic they're inadequate
Turning sexually active to abstinent, mentally absent
You're not accepting of me, new accent
Different tone
Whether listening on the phone long distance or reading an interesting poem
In this instance
Hearing a song spoken out
I can fill my tub with confidence and still soak in doubt
Stick some soap in my mouth
When I speak in bubbles
It'll give me the appearance of a cartoon and weaken my troubles
Then with every step I take I'll be leavin' puddles
And though you damp, everybody drowns when I flood town
I'm being to discreet and subtle
Man, you figure this kid would be learning
To stay away from ambiguous wording
Understand it's disturbing
Purposefully I stall
How many times can I be treated rudely during a courtesy call?
I've been left with a dial tone
Yes denied on the phone
I'm depressed, I'm alone
Time to forget writing a poem
My mind's been set, the light has been shown
I'll confess on the microphone
Now in the past year, I've done some of the worst things imaginable
Not including making songs that hopefully bring capital
I've resided in places that are practically inhabitable
And I know none of this really matters to you but I shall continue
In recent months
I don't think I've been decent once
My view of this world has been skewed, I see all priests as punks
Respect for women?
All bitches, freaks and stunts
My mental is temporal cause my physical has increased with lumps
That could be cancerous
But I try to convince myself there's no chance of this
Since all I've been doing is paying attention to physical health
The medicine on my shelf goes untouched
Don't wanna admit, I need help
Even though I know I need help, but I can't help it
I've accepted a hard truth
Given by ma dukes
See as a kid
I always peeled off fresh scabs that left me with a scared youth
You can check my blemishes and tarnished background if you want proof

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Artist : FRANCIS, SAGE
Album : The Known Unsoldier

[Chorus]
Can I kick it? (yes you can) [x3]
Well I'm gone (go on then)

Can I kick it, to all my people who get wicked like Sage does
before this did you know what my real name was
Paul Francis acting like he's on the same drugs
Never even felt the authects of a strange buzz
You never ever catch me holding a beer mug
Your talking shit like as if you was a real thug
if that's true lick a shot BUCK feel the slug
that's what you get for totin guns like you were Elmer Fudd
I'm selling tapes for three bones wanna catch a dub?
this shit is dope kid it makes you wanna cut the rug
Illuminati's got every part of my body bugged
the micro chip is in your wrist now give it a tug
be nice to females, give a bitch a hug
Triple X styles comin cleaner than your tub
you better tell your girl about it because she's a scrub
A big brow never had a nip in the bud
droppin me her seven digits while i'm in the club
talkin bout I look I need a back rub
son she's a natural disaster like a flash flood
i ain't playin dawg you better go test her blood
until your positive she's negative don't make no love
with or without a glove, you know what i'm speaking of
the cub scouts try and jump into the briney shrubs
behind the bush turn a back push into a shove
what you thinkin tryin bring the underground above?
AOI make you cry like a dove,for that shit,for that shit

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Artist : FRANCIS, SAGE
Album : The Known Unsoldier

Bang, bang, boogie
Up jumps the party

I know your name
And the hours that you operate are grave
Yard, Shift my body weight out the gates
He came
Like a thief in the night
This hell hounded off his leash
Teeth clenched tight
You might know my face
Not the expression that it's left in
When I taste
A loved one's blood, my forked tongue
Makes y'all protect your next of kin
Take it like pain killers
Spill the pills and medicine right down the drain
Flush the evidence
Then claim your innocence
Bitch, this just isn't their game
In fact their rules don't apply here
It's a shame that you're going to die here
Underneath my thumb print
All over some dumb shit
Run quick 'cause
You're about to get your punk ass beat in public
Like bang, bang
Bang, bang, boogie

He beat down her door
With an alibi full of childhood
I killed time
While it stood still for her
Moments must have adjusted accordingly
But on his watch
The minutes were fast, giving him whiplash
Beat by the hands of my clock
Lots can happen in an hour
For some days don't fly by
They make a crash landing
I flee by night and only return for emergencies
Just so I can listen to the ambulance sing
Sirens rang
The colors of the flashing lights
Painted the town red in the blackest of nights
So I will not taint beauty
In the ugliest of moments
Its that strange side of a poet
I'm writing you out of my will to live and let live
And to give you some perspective
I'm a changed man in that respect
You best get professional detectives and motion detectors
To protect your relatives
That's as much warning as your ass will get
I hold my aim
This is an invite
To my domain
Pick me up while I hitchhike
On memory lane
Sit tight while I backseat drive you insane
And beat your brains until you see nothing but pitch white
And keep you breathing just long enough to have you explain what its like
And how you like it
Convince me
I want to believe
I want to believe that you bleed
I want to believe that you're bleeding
Just as much as she did
I'll experiment with your life
Until I find it's fucking meaning
You will hang, hang
Bang, bang, boogie

She beat back her attackers
With a childhood full of alibis
As I understood
She had to lie
The battle cries must have adjusted accordingly
Her stopped calls for help never were answered back
And for that beat by the hands of my clock
Lots can happen in a matter of seconds
Ask for a repentance from a looking glass
Self shattered reflections
Before you blame your anger on adolescence
Listen to the symphony of ambulances sing
So beautiful
So nice
Tell me where were you last night?
As usual
You lied
Tell me where the fuck you hide

It goes bang, bang, boogie
Up jumps the party
I always notice when she has new marks on her body

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Artist : FRANCIS, SAGE
Album : The Known Unsoldier

[Sage]
Friends....How man does Sage have now?
Let me count 'em down with one hand

Thought we'd atleast keep peace we've been growing change together
Instead I'm Strange forever
Who's Sage he ain't too clever
Perverted introvert who gets hurt in rainy weather
Rearrange his brain and make the pain get better
The dungeons of his dome gots whips, chains, and leather
Cold souls get blacker, blood stains get redder
Shame on whoever
Foils is the ranged endeavor [?] didn't agree with the outcome but complaining never
Its all about me concentrating on the meta-physical and spiritual
Whats her name, forget her, but uh
Didn't take too much for me to remember don't ever expect to be apart of my daily agenda
I wont expect a letter come the month of November
If it happens then it happens, and uh, I let you enter at your own risk
Back into my life from the mutiny - stupidly - you gave up on you and me

[Hook]
Me and you might reunite
But it wont be tonight
Cause I don't really need you right
Keep your weak crew tight
Cause as we lose light I still have the ability to see true sight
Me and you might reunite
But it wont be tonight
Cause I don't really need you right
Keep your weak crew tight
Cause as we lose light I still have the ability...

Some say it ain't cool what I say
Cool, is what I say to helps me keep my cool
Anyway I be a fool
Till the day that I die say friends of mine
Others say I have the most genius mind until the end of time
Both sides are correct on being incorrect
They'll agree to disagree upon my intellect
When you intersect parallel lifelines
You create angles which mangles up the nice time
I'm quite calm when you consider the mean
Meaning the average, because my savage personality is unseen
One's dream is everyone else's nightmare
I'm sick of cheating souls who wanna battle, don't fight fair
I'm like where, right here
Right when, right now
Right why, cause I'm not the type to lie
Now let me wipe my eye, cause I don't like to cry in public
Try to object but you can't defy the subject
Wipe off your girl's lipstick, then I hit quick
Cause mental [?] bitch
This kid's slick
That ain't nothing but is it
Making life or death decisions in an instant when I think quick
Think fast when I cock back my pen and let the ink blast
Filled with ever floats your boat [?]
You'll be back again
Acting like my friend
Until then, talk shit

[Hook]

See I'm trying to live a dream
While my dreams are reality based
Your mentality
Strictly on a salary chase
You just a charity case
Begging for some sort of flattery, assault and battery
You think you madder than me
You think you madder than me
Lets here you say stuff
Stay tough, you trying to be sand paper but you ain't rough
Get your paint buff cause now I'm editing your lettering
You better bring a muzzle cause you never should have said a thing
Unsettling, emotional, rollercoaster you wish now we were closer
That ain't bout to happen
Back in the day we used to hang out
You shout my name out but now we ain't down
So don't claim clout
You on a lame route shouting "MUTINY"
You, yourself, and you, me, myself, and I
You and me. me and you might reunite
But it wont be tonight
Cause I don't really need you cracka, yo I don't need you
I don't really need you cracka
I don't need you, I don't really need you

[Hook]

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Artist : FRANCIS, SAGE
Album : The Known Unsoldier

I am nothing but a shell of the man I once was
So you can put me to your ear and actually hear yesteryear's ocean
I was in shape then
A much better built body of water with infinite waves and fathomless depths
Where you could have deep sea fishing for compliments
And caught plentiful schools of reassuring comments
Now all you get is the boot
You fell for the bait and got hooked on what you thought I was
Now we're both struggling to win this tug of war of the worlds
Where we breathe the same air, it's just done differently
And I'm tryin to figure out ways to have comfortably survive outside your element
Compromising intelligence
I dabbled in watered down thoughts that filtered in from the main stream
I'm offering mind altering ideas that make the most quiet natured brain scream
from exposure to the types of things that won't necessarily make you happier
They'll just give you a greater range of emotions
And I can feel myself getting lured into deeper oceans of [?]
Where people think they're as safe as cartoons simply because they speak in bubbles
A sanitized safe-haven where you could face Satan and have his faith straightened
His new goal would be to dethrone Poseidon and have Neptune's place taken
They'd swashbuckle with their pitchforks
While Lucifer shit talks and rips forts of coral reef
For relief they be like "bitch walk"
From this oversized aquarium that daddy kept cleanly to unhealthy degrees
Writing suicide notes with invisible ink on transparences
And posting them to the glass boundaries that surround the seas of change
Strangely enough, while bringing back the real
I could sense intense resistance so I had no other choice but to cut the line
I'm not saying you're overly naive
I just think you should get into the habit of seeing when strings are attached
Fortunate for you I'm compassionate enough to throw back what I catch
If it's underdeveloped and needs time to grow
Though I'm remorseful of the pain I've caused you
And I want to kiss your lips better
I sympathize with the sorrow by stroking the scar
of my own traumatic experience with my excommunicated tongue
Say I know exactly what you mean when you say it hurts too much to talk
I've been there; I don't plan on returning cause
No matter how much distance I kept or how long I waited for my wounds to heal
They'd re-open with the slightest flashback
So I sued time for malpractice
That bastard's a hack with a rusty scalpel and barbed-wire stitch thread
Instead of seeing things clearly, they're pitched red
And there's this glitch in my head that's got me thinking contradictions, it said:
"There are more fish in the sea
Whether you hear me not or you listen to me
Whether you listen to me or hear me not
There are more microorganisms in my teardrop"
But fear not, I'd never sink as low as to make my ears pop
And I imagine now you only want to swim with members of your own league
And you don't need me meddling, sending sonar signals
High pitched notes are symbols, my voice has grown far
But ripples are only caused when you cast stones
But you shouldn't throw rocks if you live in fragile fairytales

[Girl:] "This really means something to me; I'll always treasure it as a token"
[Guy:] "No you won't, cause this is for the girl who loves me
The girl who cares about me for who I am, not what I look like
I just wanted you to know you'd be missing
You think I don't appreciate art, you think I don't understand fashion
You think I'm not "hip", you think I'm pathetic
A nerd, a lard-ass, fatso, you think I'm shit
Well you're wrong, cause I'm champagne
And you're shit, until the day you die
You, not me, will always be shit"

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Artist : FRANCIS, SAGE
Album : The Known Unsoldier
(feat. Slug & Eyedea)

[Intro - Slug]
Look at me for a second
No, seriously, look at me
Honestly, ask yourself this
Lookin at me, do you really think that there is any way possible for you to embarrass me?
Look at me! Do you really think I care what you think?
Do you really think I care what you say?
Look at me!

[Hook - All]
I'm embarrased by my past actions and even more ashamed
Of my present thoughts and future endeavors to clear my name [x2]

I'm embarrassed, I'm embarrassing, I'm an embarrassment, and it's all addin' up [x2]

[Verse 1 - Sage Francis]
I'm so preoccupied with self indulgence to see
What you provided me, I fully appreciate your offerings
And the awful things in are lessened
By lessons of self-acceptance I want blessings
And I regret keeping a distance
For future reference over bridges are preventable, I know the traps
Humanity as a whole will collapse, now close the gaps
We dwell on what we share, and what separates us
We're all different, but what makes us a unit?
Music is a universal language; so is anguish, pain, and torment
Balance of emotions, it shows a happiness upon us
No more pickin' sides, one without the other is impossible
(Uhh, forgot what I was supposed to say)
They call it bi-polar, unstable conditions, they got me lookin' over my shoulder
The book that I wrote ya', was meant to move the time slower
But it was spent cookin' my mind's motor, now I'm older

[Hook x2]

[Verse 2 - Eyedea]
Yeah, it was in the cards that I'm to be forever haunted
Hip hop is slowly but surely becoming the Big Brother
I never wanted homie to hurt me, purely to mic
Still my head is astonished with Sonics and Stetics
Poetics and knowledge and polished rhetoric
Everything has its negative
Conscience consciously edit
Constantly get rid of the rigorous repetitive movements
Been better than you since...
It's easier to talk to you about it than to do it
Here I am, center of the spotlight
They all drunk and smilin', waiting for their cockfight
"Time to entertain" says the clock of life
So I became the freaky kid I'm starin' at, even though you know it's not right
Embarrassment, it's in between insecurity and arrogance
I'm a machine with a clarity I can barely grip
So if I seem red in the face, it's not 'cause I feel out of place
It's just that

[Hook x2]

[Breakdown x2 - Slug]
And I can yell all day, all night, all day
And I still doubt that you would hear a word I say
And I can drive all night, all day, all night
But if you stay with me, you'll never get it right

[Verse 3 - Slug]
I was never much for the self-driven skepticism
I was that cat that let distraction affect my vision
You were the kitten that was screaming to
Cover up the sound of landing or crashing, however it was going down,
But it's goin' down and it's goin' fast
And I have no doubts about whether or not it's gonna last
Fill the glass, tilt your head back
Let it trickle through the throat to where you hide your giggles and your laughs
I'll wait to find the correct departure time
Shine my eyes to keep the lies from climbin' up inside my mind
Some belong to you, and some belong to me,
But none of them can escape the contemplation necessary
You can't scare me, but you can keep it buried
Put your hands on the circle; try to steer me
And now that I sing all of my songs worth singing,
I'm guessing that it's just a test to see how strong I can bring it.

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Artist : FRANCIS, SAGE
Album : The Known Unsoldier

I conflict with those who are tricked by the gimmick market and can't think with logic. Logics are in the distance so I'm makin a pop hit hip hop is askin themselves why this kid talks shit it's just I'm never breakin even so I throw an art fit sick of rappers sayin' fresh but stink like armpit and couldn't test a single member that's within our clique. I'll bring it to you right now but you don't really want it. I'm born to the sauce that make ya heart skip, if you rolled as much as you're told you'd get car sick. a constant my pissed off audience is at your concert, sittin in the front row, get wet with what they all spit. I'll be standin in the back hittin ya with a tall stick. I could drown your ass in oil and still ya not slick. Winnin over your fan base make em say "aw shit" right in ya damn face. Confidence, you lost it.

Now these super thuggy guns say bring that hard shit ... Inner conflict.
Simple simple Simon Simon says to sing the pop hit... Inner conflict.
Corny white boys just want jokes, this isn't a comic strip... Inner conflict.
Still I bring the conflict, I sing of conflict, I'm in a conflict... I'd rather be artistic.

Painting pictures with my words while freaking a tar pit, you're broad strokes are filed with lead, so what you're eating's toxic. With this poisonous self destruction you're feeling, stop it. Taking more than god's name in vein making your beating heart quit. Put you on the floor then pull the carpet out from under your feet and watch you drop quick, flying through the airwaves hit you in a drop kick on the WWF wrought his war tip, run up in your crib and watch that horse trip, playing healthy mind games that keep her thoughts sick the plot is not the only thing I think is in this porn flick, once I'm done with her you really think she wants your dick?

That's not how I'd rather be.
This is not who I would rather be.
This is not what I would rather be.

I am not lit hittin on some club hoppin' bar chick, I star to flick name dropping on some super star trick, only for the sake of seein her jump on the jock quick simply get that cock trick spit what your mom drip. Back to these bastards who claim they got grip, take your finger off the safety and let your glock click. Aim for the back of my fist, make it your target, stigmata. I let the blood from my palm drip, I've got to cold and sober(?) socials in the Arctic, I'll single-handedly rip through your family make it look like a mob hit, better stiff it if your biscuit got limp, I'll go down head first like Fred Durst for a hot lick of this lollipop stick.

Sick of suckers thinking they can balk it. Hip-hop rip offs over a guitar lick. That little bitch has slit his wrists with his guitar pick. I stick to my convictions, it don't make me a convict, I compliment only those who deserve the prospect, never tried the chronic chucked the tire tonic, not your normal human assuming I'm bionic, bout to blow up listen to my inner time bomb click.

Now these super thuggy guns say bring that hard shit ... Inner conflict.
Simple simple Simon Simon says to sing the pop hit... Inner conflict.
Corny white boys just want jokes, this isn't a comic strip... Inner conflict.
Still I bring the conflict, I sing of conflict, I'm in a conflict... I'd rather be artistic

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