Close Your Eyes

[Verse 3: Busdriver]

They pushed outdated policies like [?]

[?] alpha numerics

And look how I get treated, I know, how pathetic

When they build sphinxes in my name, make 'em hypoallergenic

And why you're at it, make yourself a cup of coffee

[?] butter toffee, turn a '90s Tamagotchi, feed your demagogue

Picture yourself in a Beverly Hills hotel eating a biscotti

Slowly becoming a minor celebrity disc jockey

After that, take a sec, relax a little, go put on your gray sweats

And simply, "Go fuck yourself!"

[?]

That's why I'm glaring at this casting call with a fist full of wisdom teeth

Slandering all figure-heads under a banner saying, "Mission complete, homie!"

Because of this my published works are microfiche

[?] vinyl crease got love birds bookin' bridal suites

And got my niggas engaging in homicidal streaks

'Cause my vocal outreach is the outcry of the sideshow freak

And they'll offend me more than a prayer could

I don't mistake goods with the greater good