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the palmer squares - chemically imbalanced lyrics

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[verse 1: envy]
my mental’s f-cked up
daily facing death in the eyes
i walk around fingers raised straight expecting to die
sittin’ roastin
hitting sticky crystals toking
ak47 kush, f-ck a pistol smoking
son i’m missile posting
kitchen drugs
i’ll put you under the table quicker than sticks of gum
you kids are numb
son you ain’t a fact of this matter
can’t see, envy, and a map of nevada
but, back to these actors with no d-mn hearts
your soul’s poured out like some low-fat forms
excuse my behavior, just chemically imbalanced
down from methazines and amphetamines compounded
and the ??? fraternal
underground flame makes lucifer’s inferno
blaze on these beats got my brain on relapse
so slow you roll like a radar speed trap
no, i don’t f-ck with that racket i just said
and get stoned like some bad iraqi chicks
i would stand and laugh at it
i’d just rather crack a 6 and i will handle any cat just like a chinaman with big knives
you try to f-ck with the palmer squares and envy
you can sleep with the carp for real
word up
know we all prevail
hoping y’all prepare for who’s next up on the mic

[verse 2: ac-mental]
i be the golden child going wild in his domicile
a usmc, on some gomer pyle
vocal style wreaking havoc on the track
ac-mental’s off the hook like that jacket on yo back
haters need to bury the bullsh-t
my penmanship causes tension quick
and i’m feeling very impulsive
holy jesus, mary, and joseph, i’m a wreck
spot me in the air dropping explosive dialect on your neighborhood
slaying rooks while they stay on foot
we on another level tilt your head back and take a look
in flight with the birds
my grandma used to tell me don’t fight, just fight with your words
so i been knocking out contenders in the first round
when i vocally allow my ventricles to burst out
opponents fall on they faces
it’s envy, tk, and ac, yo we off to the races
but at the finish line there ain’t no money waiting there for us
working people don’t profit they’re just paying their mortgage
so hustle up if you wanna chase the hare, tortoise
cause my style’s just right, like the baby bear’s porridge
and i’ll be d-mned if i’m gonna let some little reptile p-ss me up
not a chance in h-ll
we run game like sam c-ssell
casting spells
on all these wack emcees that can’t handle themselves
get a grip

[verse 3: terminal knowledge]
rock your body like a glance from medusa
i’m tryna get the cabbage on some p-ss the kabusta
these inglorious b-st-rds been recording the tracks to make you corny -ss rappers wanna smack your producers
scrambling circuits out
hacking computers
on a, traveling circus gone back to the future
carnivorous
rap’s jur-ssic park
carve through your ribs and detach your heart from the thoracic arch
what we jam to is fresh
we gotta keep it cold
got my hands on your neck
and it’s not a sleeper hold
people know, i’m a product of absolute insanity
breaking capsules open just to travel through the galaxies
blending fantasies with the actual fallacies of the factual reality
and i wasn’t born a poet
this sh-t happened to me gradually
turn your record off and put it back into the plastic sleeve
yo don’t stand in my way
they’ll say what you program ’em to say
i swear they manufacture wack emcees inside a factory
p-ss the weed y’all
the squadron is back
we hold it down so don’t be raising up no property tax
straight sippin’ on apostrophe brands
we’re here to leave the opposition sh-tting in colostomy bags
step back i’m taking some action
i don’t exactly train acrobats but i’ll make you do backflips



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