((((((antennas))))))

[Verse 1: Masta Ace] This animal style is like an annual trial Trying to turn state's evidence with a manual dial, that's hard Now zoom in and tune in to my frequency Steppin' to the AM and slam 'em all in secrecy My sound waves go deeper than underground caves Pitchin' in Atlanta, you know I'm mowin' down braves Don't be a hero 'cause yo, that's a sandwich, man Crazy plans in my land, you'll get banished man Try me on, impeach Find me on the beach Grimy on the speech Just like an old Spanish man "Maricón," you can’t be me like a body clone In the hoods where I kick it like Karate Tone This man spit right in the face of what you transmit Holding on to relevance, hoping that your hands slip And you fall into obscurity Walkie talkie antennas with no security, praying mantis You really ought to weigh your chances This yellow brick road stay stormy like a day in Kansas And then another twister touch Yo, I'm on a roll like I twist the Dutch I'm on a roll like I twist the Dutch I'm on a roll But I don't smoke though, nah [Verse 2: MC Paul Barman] We're all one, just different lumps of protoplasm Every moment of joy counts as a bonus 'gasm Each pore is an ear, from the shore to the skier The core of the tear is the doorway to the here and now We're an owl I'm an orphan in Syria, I'm a more fortunate peer A warm tent appears near the torment and fear Our origin is clear, we're the source of the seer I'm a self in sheep's clothing, a wealth of cheap loathing Knowing nothing full well, compelled to keep going Come for the wordplay, stay for the high voice Return for the rhythms, move in with 'em by choice If you didn't like me on other beats, you'll love me on this one I didn't change anything, repeat yourself, it's fun Kids' friends think I'm deeply flawed And if I fix ten things, ten more will keep me odd [Verse 3: MC Paul Barman] We feel conflicting agendas rise and fall What we call our identity tries to synthesize them all But there's another option Wise guys and dolls can watch them go by like flies on the wall The Cindy mole is wabi sabi The indie goal is job as hobby Don't hyperfocus on your diaper crocus Just change your drawers and wipe your tochus [Verse 4: MC Paul Barman] Beliefs are the police of the mind Chiefly designed to relieve us of our fiefdoms of time resigned “Said no one ever,” said no one ever Every text from my father was meant for my brother I believe that we will win Me and grief, my evil twin My third ventricle got blocked But word tentacles could not stop so energy clogged, overheated, and hotboxed So I pictured galaxies and reached out to Cathy’s anchor And it yanked me open and back to the Earth's surface, thanked her I'm not doing a Patreon just to find another format for you people to hate me on I'm from the flirtatious Cretaceous era Back when we asked girls on dates and faced the terror But I'll leave the bitchin' and moanin' to the rich Roman old men Young cats make dope raps, don't act like there's a glitch in the moment