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busdriver - map your psyche lyrics

[intro]
personnel officer: let me see your chauffeur’s license. how’s your driving record?
travis: it’s clean. it’s real clean, like my conscience
personnel officer: you gonna break my chops? i have trouble with guys like you coming in to break my chops all the time. if you’re gonna break my chops, you can take it on the arches right now, you understand?
travis: sorry, sir. i didn’t mean that

[verse 1: busdriver]
i did a record before you
and sure of course it was a tour de force
now you can afford a porsche, go to the source awards
get some tour support, do all sorts of warped things
get a sm-rg-sbord with a horde of wh0r-s
snort some more, leave a horrid corpse
you’re so corporate endorsed that when i record a chorus
you said you co-writ the grand corpus
with no if’s, and’s, or but’s
to listen to derivative works of this art-f-g
i need to be in arms reach of a barf bag
using a bland sci-fi lab kit
no fan’s hands will go sky-high for that sh-t
it’s too anti-climactic, i’ll put my bad reviews on your happy shoes

[abstract rude]
well, it’s the busdriver and y’all back in school
with ellay khule and i’m ab rude, ripping it

[verse 2: abstract rude]
derivative of creative initiative
uninhibited in no particular fashion
indicative of an atypical mic-smashing
considered the t-tle cl-ss of the fiercest survivalist
paralyzing psycho-n-lyst, magnetizing soul catalyst
out of a cocoon a platoon would form and how did it happen
sprouting like alfalfa poison mushrooms out of the gr-ss
boys to men of this vast network of allies
that were sent to the rally point for the joint venture
henchmen with a long-standing friendship
based on both surviving a lynching from those striving against them
rise to any length spread through every width, area, and circ-mference
it’s a heavy load to lift but i was never known to quit nothing
i use a dolly, pulley, lever, conveyor belt
on the -ssembly line where all of the steel melts
i’d weld them a chopper, tap on a chakra to get ’em back in order
and mail them a doc-ment to tell ’em retreat back over the border
for his aura’s sake to make more, innovate, and record a great album
for our styling cipher out for the driver
i’m a clocker, as much of an actor as mekhi phifer’s a rhymer
he’s the busdriver and y’all back in school
and i’m ab-rude and with ellay khule, rippin’ it

[bridge: aceyalone]
yeah, project blowed collective holds mc’s of the future
i read the grid kid, i did every column
we have you mapped out..

[hook: budriver and abstract rude]
we’ve mapped your psyche
we know what you do before you do
packaged it nicely
and sold it to who feeds off the style

[verse 3: ellay khule]
you couldn’t break my chops with an axe
take you time, make it fat, talking sh-t, take it back
mad when you kick that cr-p
weak wack raps, where the real writers at?
over here, over there, everywhere that i peek
follow the elite, every style that i freak
beat a n-gga down when i’m bound to a beat
microphone parts what they found in the street
pick ’em up, dust, kick it up, time to rip it up
having fun with my tongue, when i’m done give it up
time to demonstrate how i penetrate
hot incinerate, biting like a dinner date
it’s a twist that i missed, what part of the game is this?
where the losers go and the winners wait
to take the beginner’s place
keep my face placed on how to win the race
if they’d run, i would never chase
hit ’em with the boom because they set up base
this ain’t texas but this is the west’s chainsaw leather face
keep the golden mic in a leather case
and when it’s battle time, i’ma set a pace
every line that you find already been mine
when you rhyme, man, what a waste
you would think i’d busted a nut in every hip-hop sl-t
because there’s too many mini-me’s
and some of y’all cats is finicky
so y’all quickly change to enemies
blowing up in the industry so they remember me
in their memory for original chops
so you better give spiritual props to your lyrical pops
speed seeds, i delivered a flock
busdriver, ellay khule, and ab rude
a few goodlife emcees on the prowl
they get beat up every time they want to eat up
and try to feed up on my style
got your little puny mind
your little minuscule thoughts mapped out

[hook]

- busdriver lyrics

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