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wombaticus rex - no clue lyrics

keep my face low, palestinian sp-ce ghost
rappers take notes when i fabricate flows
you play video games, i -ss-ssinate popes
payment in pesos, p-rnos and straight c0ke
from suburban activists to southern baptist kids
even my dad gets p-ssed when i do a track like this
got cats putting bets on what’s happening next
as a hick rapper in debt becomes a national threat
i tickle nipples, then spit a triple axel
do prozac, then paxil, and freestyle some fractals
i’m sick of breast jokes and cigarette smoke
and i think the west coast is an internet hoax
i give a fraction of a f-ck if some rapper thinks i suck
the only time i do this cr-p is when i’m drunk
athiests are p-ssies, i’m such a crazy hick
i refuse to believe that time and sp-ce exist

don’t be mad at my clique cuz we can battle like this
fact is, we grew up without a sattelite dish
raised with lame toys, like wooden game boys
so i just kinda crossed my eyes and made noise
now check this, the epileptic etch-a-sketch kid
gets arrested for possession of herbal weapons
got lots of fresh purple pot from feds
plus roxicets from undercover cops with dreads
blaze a bowl of asian grown in the danger zone
i’ll be safe at home until they trace the phone
switch to channel six, fix some decent food
and start to read the clues beneath the news
cuz cnn tells me that mohammed’s wrong
and osama’s mom got raped by satan on ramadan
and on an on….but i can make the connections
fl!ck the sound off and watch their facial expressions
a couple steps beyond your monkey lexicon
you connect with rappers, i connect with god
you impressed your girlfriend, i impressed your mom
you write verses, i freestyle perfected songs
and i promise to stop mocking religion
just as soon as they admit they put the goddess in prison
i freestyle drunk, cuz in vermont it’s religion
half conscious and spitting out monsters and visions
thirtyseven never forgetting my fellow tripping kids
sick of this ridiculous culture full of wickedness
personal philosophies, recipes to rock the beat
preaching, prophecy, poetry, p-rnography
f-cking with fundamental parts of the government
and smuggling my drugs inside the ark of the covenenant
i summon demons and stuff, deep in the drums
it’s like i need to get drunk and start speaking in tongues
they found me in a drunk tank up in pakistan
with cotton mouth and c-mstains on my khaki pants

bring condoms and vodka, but keep the rifles warm
cuz if we can’t party, what the f-ck are we fighting for?
wombat’s back, and still lethal to fascists
i got will to power and libido to match it, touch me
i keep a policy of open aggression
living in the shadow of two stolen elections
and i’m still not political, f-ck your opinions
go start a militia or a smuggling business
i got friends who went from harmless potheads
to being monitored by a lot of the top feds
job promotions, i’m open minded and claustrophobic
so i keep my mouth c-cked and loaded
the vision statement, rituals in prison bas-m-nts
triple agents with sixty different faces
not even worth it, spit the sloppiest verses
in the hospital flirting with chzeckoslovakian nurses

- wombaticus rex lyrics

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