ghettosocks - lapping the sun lyrics
big socks on the set, break your cameras out
words are s-xy but i never took the glamorous route
i brought beaucoup bouquets of bombs to drop on ’em
comin’ in so many colors kids say i jock autumn
move swift, lappin’ the sun and use gifts
clippin’ overgrown egos; leave opponents useless
cats are fabricating fabulous, see me scatter ashes
tabulate the abacus and leave ’em flabbergasted
advanced lyrical rain-dance
man of the house stays tecked-out, still wearin’ the same pants
strange lands, travel the globe with veined hands
and stop the spinning with fingertips like fate plans
alpha what? align astrological signs
swap symbols in the temple tryin’ to follow the mayans
standing out by taking the road that’s less travelled
unraveling the code of the soul and bless samples
channeling the cold of the poles and press mantles
chosen for the hold of the throne; set examples
pr-ne to blow spots and restore lost faith in the gods
save the applause ’til i’m done blazin’ these frauds
i made a cause of bringing flavor to jaws-
taste it and pause, patience of the ancients when i’m lacin’ these bars
praise allah ’cause i’m stayin’ involved
until the time the mind-frames of the basic evolve–
and the heat don’t know me, i’m too cold
shatter the track like gl-ss masters, origami, two-fold
slow ducks catch orange pistols. f-ck a next level- get a smack from a warp whistle
i come from a planet where the dominant inhabitants
panic and plant pieces of metal in the inanimate
dna strands are spliced in cryo-cabinets;
part primate, part god- rock banana clips
television: learn to read and spell it with ’em
mental prison expelling wisdom while i excel on rhythms-
and i ain’t trying to save the day- i’m playing keep-away with your brain in a field of razor-blades
don’t trip, secret opponents get blown lids
and i’m proposing that foes who oppose get domes bit
i mind my own biz watching time-zones shift
spittin’ poems that are pr-ne to leave a clone’s bones stripped
heads buried deep in the bas-m-nt
nodding to the boom-bap ’cause they agree with the statement
cheap labour on unable labels needing replacement
ain’t hype- bite the curb like you’re eatin’ the pavement-
and proving the existence of god isn’t that hard
when mathematics equate and translate the visions of art
and vice-versa. my vice is to write verses
that might hurt your feelings twice and entice murder
parallel to nothin’- make your comprehension malfunction-
so keep coordinates tucked in. don’t rush in when i’m bustin-
all spontaneous, that’s you tastin’ flames while combustin’
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