beans – this night amok lyrics
god, i’m not sure of you existence +
but won’t call you out your name as insurance
but in case you are there and i’m not aware +
i won’t blaspheme +
i’m ballbeam, the big sauce handsome hand grenade rob
the ishmael reed of mc’s + so far out + that my writings
enticing to june tyson +
my real is surreal when i cobra cuddle
no recoil clutch a microphone + meet the new ted joans
been that +
will be that +
stay that +
abstract + use my head for more than a hat rack
tryin to reach my cloud +
taking the stairs i’m above it +
lord of everything my light touches + mr. nightfall
mr. wack never that always forever extratalest +
w/ that drop dead fresh
it’s when i close my eyes ‘til i rise + no 9 to 5 +
my burdens i’m too fly + i belong in the sky +
my drip add water you drown you flood w/ the ferocity of a
leaky faucet
savagely speaking + if i’m wrong, then who’s right?
creatively lawless + the god you can touch w/ text
slay then raise from the grave in 3 days
i’m jesus + my hot rod is a t+rex
preying on minds fatalistic artillery articulate
words vivid + like staring out a windowsill
to these flavorless + bland as water
room temperature tepids +
y’all got yellow t++th and rock waves
cause you spent more time brushing the wrong sh+t +
i can’t ride that wave + so much for priorities
a crowbar dislodged your soul from your body +
each tic of the clock has become your foe +
i’ll admit, though + that you’ve got gusto in your pursuit
of failed ambition + y’all fell off like tumblr +
after the p+rn restrictions +
i’m from new york where they spread love like bedbugs
to a mind swaddled in squalor +
tryin to explain the concept of time to a toddler +
time, a measure of duration linear +
this is the termination of your linear duration +
laid in waste your dreams in debris +
vivid in 3d + when i’m feeling indecisive +
i tie a chain around a rapper’s neck +
tie the other end around a pole +
then drive as fast as i can go +
throw the decapitated head into the air +
yell heads or tails +
somehow, it always lands on heads, i suppose +
you a whimper trying to whisper futile in the ear
of a brazen blaze + don’t burn
sweeter than plum wine you b+tch macho benign
washed up + you a wash cloth
the passenger pigeon who flew into a fan +
he’s duck sauce
i’m from new york where they spread love like bed bugs
santa going out of business because of abortion +
that type of bullsh+t +
santa doesn’t exist
you twit +
roses are red +
smurfs are blue +
they ran out of glitter glue and can’t shine like you
failed miracle +
trust exercise distressed trauma
in a costco
soggy urine stained thong +
a dead shark for a bong +
a tea kettle makes better songs +
gloatingly as that
sh+tbag zimmerman signing autographs on a pack
of skittles despicable +
mike vick as dr. doolittle +
happy negro +
shackled by zeros +
to do the bidding of status quo
even if i play quiet on tippy toes
everywhere i go +
an apocalypse follows +
slipped into the beat like a kimono
i’m from new york where they spread love like bed bugs
abused crews in a theme park of pain
measured in mass put+weight on the name +
i radiate my own sun +
foraging graves to raise a calvary +
this night amok
no clemency +
it means nothing to me +
to sh+t on mc’s +
over crowds + i’m a circus performer
on the trapeze +
w/ diarrhea
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