Breakbeat

Life’s a bitch

Sad violinists when I sold their violas

Pissed like a hippie when you stole their granola

In the desert looking for a cold cherry cola

Life’s hard like a cold areola

My thoughts tend to do hand grenade harm

I think, therefore I amputate arms

I’m not always a man with great charm

But I’ll be there like the man from State Farm

I’m dedicated to getting better

Like meth-heads are dedicated to finding methods of getting faded

Defecated on microphones in every state in the land

So I better be scrubbing up before you’re shaking my hand

I’m making a stand

Put me in a jam I hang tough

Scram when I break my handcuffs

And I will shake every snake every fake soft motherfucker off like flakes of dandruff

If they use my back as a staircase I get up in their face

And give em a rare taste

Of genuine bear mace

If you’re in my airspace, I’m shootin' you down

If you think you’re king I’m surgically removing your crown

I’m movin' around

Have some trouble choosin' a town

Cause when I move I never lose any ground

At any given moment it’s hard to really tell

At what city I dwell

Find me in Philly bangin' my head on the Liberty bell

I tried but if you're looking far

You don’t have to check where the rookies are

I work hard like a Wookiee barber

Luke Skywalker any naughty hand caught in a cookie jar

I don’t know how many days before me

Gonna go out in a blaze of glory

Savor the phases, the crazy, the tame

And then tell an amazing story