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payday monsanto - the simple things lyrics

one message? i ain’t even hear the phone ring? who the f+ck is this?

yo, you home? pick up. i just got discharged early, dog unexpectedly. i still got all of these things, from this guy. various flavors, if you know what i mean. plastic smith & wess, h&k, there’s desert e’s. tell ‘ya neighbors, hit me up please. same number, get back…

(that’s a rare aficionado, man)

that kid’s a maniac, the boy got 45 nines, but reluctant to make his 45 chime, try to jerk him off, you better have 45 palms, you’ll be the 45th cat to use that wack style, 45 times. why all these kids actin’ like they need a strait+jacket? talkin’ anti+g+y sh+t, but they probably flamin’ f+gots. battle? i’ll make your own mother wonder who? a rapper step, i’ll snap his neck like a #2, but i’m the type that strive for peace & happiness, individually wrapped coils in my mattresses. i’ve come to reach certain people with speech, from the east, to the far west, from drought, to harvest, famine, to feast. i spit luna sh+t, loungin’ up on a crescent moon, with flows to make the d+mn desert bloom. i can’t pretend to f+ck hoes, and tote mac’s to pile ends, you want s+x & violence, when all i got is sax & violins…

f+ll+tio’s divine, as long as the woman know how to do, ’cause sometimes they scathe this p+n+s of mine, and compromise what i came to do…
the latest h&k’s amazin’, the green beam won’t let you lose, you have to have a piece, to protect your jewels…

i used to have flings with mere material things, now i cut diamond rings into crystalline scissors, to clip the wings of buzzards, so you can set the vultures loose. my 3rd earth sh+ll was swell, i hurled lightning bolts, with zeus, this american life i chose to suit, to promote the culture’s noose. hip+hop ain’t allowed to hang with rap, distinguish that i’m refined extract, from the bottles of artificially flavored water, they label ultra+juice, with orange #5 in it, my proverbial aspartame, crash your brain, like it had a harddrive in it. (aye, yo) i’ll never squander my mask, to the c+cksuckas, i’m head+chef, (yes) and top pot+scrubber. the dirtywork, i’m makin’ it fun, i come to sell ‘ya sugar, then leave you with a sodium taste on your tongue. i’m on some obliterate a rat sh+t, and to do that quick, sometimes you gotta imitate his tactics. fanatics is just a tad bit ecstatic, their system is flawed by fraud, and that’s it. you here to suck d+ck, or not? a learned fool once said, “this is it, either sh+t, or get off the pot.”

at least 49% of new yorkers believed prior knowledge, the number’s growin’, ’cause you simply can’t lie to scholars. they try to tarnish the image, but i don’t try to polish, f+ck what you learnin’, i know you’re yearnin’ to higher college. i put my money on you learnin’ a valuable lesson, jokers are funny, now i’m doin’ it out of discretion. f+ck the poppy+c+ck you heard of, they fakin’ the feelin’, it’s time to see the real murderers makin’ a k!llin’. (ask yourself) should i step+up, jump+up & demand some action, or stay diverted by weapons of mass distraction? these words extremely critical if you wanna be free, how to defeat power elite, who don’t want ‘ya to see how they quiet the truth calm, the ballot don’t work, uh+huh now it’s riot & loot time. this ain’t political rap, it’s critical rap, visible at 40,000 feet on a physical map. (check+it) i got a wide variety for you to choose from, you want the high+society, or avenue slum? sh+t is simply unbreakable, man, and for the insatiable fan, i’ll always have a shakable hand. far as the hoes & guns, and bass & drums, i must admit sometimes i love the way sh+t comes. my uzi get the place surrounded, my jawn look big in her hand, d+mn she can hardly fit her fingers around it…

- payday monsanto lyrics

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