Bob Barker

[Verse: E L U C I D] If you can't say fuck the police out loud and in public, we can't strategically build with you It's a crime to be poor, satellite arm of the law Body snatcher, no man knows the hour 4, 5, 6, is it my time yet Full circle, perfect loop like dyin' on my birthday, cremate me in my boots Scatter my ashes on a ocean, I'ma walk on water, suicide drill for the fourth quarter, e'ybody play the fool, top of the key, my shot water, four classic Bundle to the neck in my Sister Rosetta Tharpe sweater, varsity letterman, to be a nigga is to eschew elegance, melancholy medicine for pressure, spirit swells like faces under baton strike, the heart hardener Her raging cosmic eye shower rain revenges on those who scribe the real and assume power, that's a wet dream I woke up on fire, still in the east, my only goal is to die free with my dick hard Far from the potter's field if I'm being selfish That's not my story though If my mother singing glory it's cause her baby boy gettin' over on his own term, my brother too, he's so precarious, ain't no flamin' chariot up north unless we torch a prison bus, sterilize the womb to keep us kin to cuff Flush in the face, a numbers game, projections, starve for seeds in the third grade, incubation, warm black bodies required [Refrain: E L U C I D] There's no soul in this machine There's no soul in this machine There's no soul in this machine There's no soul in this machine There's no soul in this machi-