Raw, I'm going to give it to youWith no triviaRaw like that
Aesop rock iron-fisted list militiaWhile bent funny bone grown
communitySpit a thousand and 1 ripples to cripple the
continuityTap water builds characterRight I irrigate it straight
to mainlineYou want to do the same? FineThese pretty profit
grommet teams solidify the clot to slippery city salt piston
pump drainBut hold those incredible console with the Russian
roulette baboon spin-offWhere everyday a thousand strangers pray
for empty chambersOne-sixth buckleFive Sixths sweat bullets
trying to keep it subtleBut I'll get you (I'm going to
get you)Wobbly rope bridgeBroke inches tired of dry landBut duck
skull stepping-stones suit the mix-down wellWell, when the rumor
spreads that y'all stupidI'll be the cat with guilty
look on face and shirt that reads: I didn't do it!Is it on,
is it beyond basicDoes it ice grill you or is every song
faceless?Does it have a title? If didn't would you name
it?Does it babble about nothing like a drunken atheist?We could
run that Orwells '84 warFor the room 1 on 1 z-tourTill he
try and fidgets with his or her own work spear specificsSwerve
around the cobra kissesSee if the venom overloads this
visionI'm going to suck the poison out and spit itStole my
sneakers but your features never fit inServers you right for
trying to walk a mile outside your limitsI'm going to
tiptoe across this yo-yo stringUntil you walk the dog out from
under my feet and skip town, sit down(Chorus)It goes boom boom
boomBoomboxEarth to a-r vertical burden has increased at an
alarming rateBliss is down a pointMurder up, glee down and still
fallingStill crawling out of bed at 2 on SaturdaysCame this blind
soldier-burning confessionalEase back; let a heart thump echo
normalcy for 10Let the back burner boiling point descendI race
the derby in the first heat (strike personal)Strike personal
space with the most utterly putrid version of graceSpit the
gimmick, sit and fidgetWhile we try and jump through hoopsLike
Coney Island freak show midgetsWant to be a fighter pilotDriving
that childish early Wright brothers experimentPrototypic model
fossilSit and sweat bullets on a consoleBusting accidental dirt
bike donutsOutside the most ridiculous poison tongue brain
siloDead before the chubby debutaunt conquered the high
noteSchooled by the cruel intention inventions pensive
sideshowSee contrary to popular certaintyI alone advance without
an earthly poemAnd dance on a handful of zoning fansHolding every
chance to own the land I roamWith dome in handsTruly be its only
camper happy with the scrap heapSee I convinced myself it's
onTherefore it is and the melody settlesBeneath the fact that
I'm just spitting for these kidsI tried to get them all
openAnd once I quit and said I didn't careI swear they all
threw their hands up in the air(Chorus)It goes boom boom
boomBoombox