Exquisite Corpse

[Intro]

Have you ever seen a corpse?

How about an exquisite one?

Think about Frankenstein’s monster

Now think about fun

You’re getting it, good!

Johnny starts with a leg. I sew on an arm. Then you lend a hand

We each add our piece

Now, what kind of beast have we made?

Let’s find out!

[Verse 1: Watsky]

I woke up Sunday to a bloodshot sky

Robot overlords goose-step by

Shoulda listened when we had the juice to try

And Bill the Science Guy told us that “the end is nigh!”

Lately it’s been getting harder to

Survive, since the Hive started to

Ban American refugees from being a damn part of the

People’s Republic of Antarctica

A bum begged me for a bill he could borrow

Babbling some shit about, “There’s still a tomorrow”

He said that, “Legend has it, there’s still a Baja Grill and a Sbarro

At the top of Mount Kilimanjaro”

And so desperate, I set out from the deserts out in Portland

Until my thirsty horse collapsed in the scorched sand

I promised to myself, heart and soul

I’d crawl across this dead world for those garlic rolls

[Verse 2: Dumbfoundead]

Yo, kid, let go of the dead horse (Let go)

Stop crying, need a ride? Hop in my red Porsche (Skrrt)

Eat something, homie, you look bony and frail (Damn)

Now why the hell would you take the Oregon Trail?

Remember back in grade school, that stupid computer game? (Yuh)

You shoulda known better, now there’s no one but you to blame (True)

Dying of dysentery, don’t climb to the enemy

I’ma take you underground where the Hive resistance be

Apparently, a colony of people are out there (Where?)

A garden full of veggies, even garlic they sprout there (Really?)

Leader General Bieber who be running shit down there

Found a way to end the drought, bring out the swimwear (Yay)

Soon as we pulled up, we heard drilling noises (Krrgt)

Children started dancing, even grown folk joined in

Like a hydrant in the Bronx, water shot up in the air

But was boiling and as hot as solar flares

[Verse 3: Grieves]

Ooowee, ain’t that a bitch?

Nobody believed it 'til the first wave hit

The ground started shaking and the sky went red

(Mayday! Atlanta’s been lost, Justin Bieber is dead)

No! God damn, another one down

Colonies of people living under the ground

Rallied against the clowns, a resistance was born

They fight for mankind and the existence of porn, let’s go!

Back on the surface, life eaters

Avoiding wild packs of North American beavers

Creepers and face feeders, fearing the great reaper

You’re either gonna get eaten or beat with a pay meter

This is real shit, homie, dog eat dog

More like robot clown eats man and whole squad

Graffiti on the wall says “there is no god”

But there is still homemade vodka, and that’s cool

[Verse 4: Wax]

Homemade vodka, pour a shot up then I swill it

I’m the only person left who remembers how to distill it

It’s the most popular product in the underground economy

So I’m the most popular person in my underground colony

All the resistance leaders they throw shots down

In my bar after they fight the robot clowns

As of late, they’ve been stressed and depressed

'Cause the chances of us winning are becoming less and less

We lost the captain of the human army

Morale's really low and a lot of people are starving

I’m still wondering how this all happened

Is this even real, or am I just on acid?

The clowns are advancing down

I use the word “down” cause they’re coming underground

Wait—what’s that sound? It’s kinda loud

Holy shit! There they are right now!

[Verse 5: Adam Vida]

Calm down soldier, this is no time to be a fink

We can beat these clowns, okay, we just need to think

I’ve lost ten men this week, I can’t sleep a wink

But this the last place on earth a guy can get a decent drink

So darned if we lose this bar to these useless zombie bastards

I’d rather starve than be boozeless

So I put barbed wire slabs on the fences

That should buy us some time to plan our defenses

Pick up the chairs and trash cans off the floor

Stack 'em up on the front door to jam up the entrance

Ain’t got grenades, but we still might be saved

I just found fifty diet coke cans and some breath mints

Fill the trash cans to the brim with the cola

When the robots break in toss the mints in the soda

See the blast won’t hurt 'em, but it’ll get 'em wet certainly

It’ll mess up their wiring and disrupt their circuitry

If it don’t work, though, my next plan cannot fail

We drink the vodka—shot after shot 'til we’re too drunk to feel pain

Spark up a flame, and turn the bottles that remain into Molotov cocktails

I’ve had it with you clowns, I’ve reached my limit

You may have killed my captain, but I’m the lieutenant

And I won’t let you terrorize us, wait just a minute

That ain’t no robot zombie, man, what the hell is it?!

[Verse 6: Rafael Casal]

Adam! Ah! I didn't mean to scare ya'

Dude, that’s not a robot, it’s just Iggy Azalea

Musta hid up in the bar to learn about who we are

Then report back to the captain of the folks attackin' my favorite rap stars

Oh shit, quick! Hit her with some fuckin' duct tape

She came to sing-rap & give us all some undercut fades

Lo-fi beats transmitting telegraphic autotune

Help! She’s inside my head, and I don’t think I am immune

Been repo'd, I think I’m in deep, I am weeping at the seams

Forfeiting my dreams of keeping the streets G-code

Only way to outrun it is doubling up on the track

Any and everyone get up and meddle, I mean it

Just putting the pedal into it

Now we taking over the tempo and tuning it

Never gone let a lesser level ruin it, so I’m inducing it

Dooming it all, I’m undoing it, deuces, I'm dipping

Who coming with the kid? I’m out

Head to the dojo, Diggs got pistols hidden in his 'fro though

These robots think we're bitch, Diggs, gimme some loko

And let me borrow your Jefferson robe, bro, I’m going postal

Bay boy's 'bout to put this barrel into some fucking blowholes

[Verse 7: Daveed Diggs]

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, Cash

You see I’m trimming my mustache up

I heard all these newly brainwashed rap chicks are really down to fuck (Oh no!)

I comb the pistols out the 'fro and they’re sitting on the table

And there’s two cheesesteaks out in a fully gassed up LeSabre

I’m ready to ride on these haters, let’s go

But you better drive, 'cause you already know

That apocalypse or not, when I’m behind the wheel

My black ass is sure enough gonna get stopped

And we ain’t got the time and the tags are expired

You know how it is, I am really not trying to die today, by cop, or by Iggy robot

Whoa, stop, lemme go bottle up this kombucha I’ve been brewing on the back porch

Grab the backpack out the closet, it’s got all of our passports

I’ve been planning this for a minute, seen the writing on the walls

If we survive and find a civilization, they’ve got to know who we are

First we swoop up Chinaka, in case we need some muscle

Or reason, or anything other than our indiscriminate hustle

Then we roll through the hood real slow bumping something all of these monsters know

Like a Watsky song? Lo and behold, they’ll follow our car wherever we go

Let’s lead em out to Napa and let em gentrify that bitch up

Start the car, homie, no, we are not stopping for any swishers

Or a McFlurry, bruh, there’s no time for that shit

Hold up, there go Nak right there, pull over

Ayo, Nak

Ayo, Nak, get in the car!

[Verse 8: Chinaka Hodge]

Ay Rafa, get backseat

Make room for ya fam, friend

I’ll give you this McShake and the end of my Hansen

Now what the fuck y'all talking, it’s the end of the world?

I been on Pinterest, tending to the end of my curls

I mean the sky is always purple, people running on vapors

I mean, the Tribune been gone, I ain’t gon' read it in the papers

Nothing’s all that different, been the same for black women

When apocalyptic breakfasts follow revelation dinners

The lights been out, the water smelling of Flint

Exquisite corpses laying where the bodies had been

No bombs over Baghdad, just drones with grenades

So when life give us citrus, we learn to drop Lemonade

So, okay, fellas, shall we get in formation?

Bump some pied piper aura up out the trunk of this scraper

Do the end of the world styling in our fitteds and gators

Lure these stupid motherfuckers on a goose chase

Use whatever’s already in our suitcase

I got this whole row jones for this open road

And my flow so cold, we don’t need AC

I popped fo’ no doze, I’ll read this formal prose

I bet you Butler knows how to make us free

A Lauren Olamina in a Trumped up world

A black magic woman still being called "girl"

But the only constant is change, holmes

So let’s get the supplies and then dip up out our Bay homes

Got this earthquake kit and six gallons of gas

I got Diggs in the driver and Raf in the back

Got this passenger seat and the last of these sweets

Go north, Daveed, just gun it 'til wine country

Do it moving fluid like turfin' with iDummy

It’s the Bay moves we learned as natives gon' keep us safe

It’s that forty water water and an instrumental tape, let’s go

They’ll get tired behind us

I mean half of 'em hybrid but, nigga, most of them wind-ups

We got nothing but power, we got nothing but time

I got Kwudi’s new beats and Music of My Mind

But nothing left in Napa but the scent of the grapes

No palate-cleansing tapas for discriminate taste

Nothing left in Calistoga but one popped bubble

We got just two dudes and, like, one Nak, trouble

How the hell we s'posed to repopulate humanity?

The two of y’all and me? That’s, like, actual insanity

Like, ew, that's really gross, guys

It's like, not Diggs, and not Rafa

Not nobody else, just Getback

Just doing it, styling in wine country with nothing else

[Verse 9: Watsky]

"Red, red wine, I don’t want to die!"

I hum under my breath as I fight death in the quiet depths of the bunker

I was confounded when I came to after Dumbfoundead

Brought me to the battered base underground where we hunkered down for the summer

But then winter came, and the flame that we tended to flickered to nothing

And the few of us living resorted to burning cadavers like tinder and lumber

We bickered bitterly and our wickedness hit a peak in our hunger

Sickened, we hunted each other

Pickpocketed the weak and we plundered

A visitor from the surface stole a garlic roll from a Dave and Busters

And I butchered the buster in his sleep just to lick his fingers for butter

But it kind of gave me indigestion, I confess, and the pipes ruptured from my dung

Lungs punctured when Dumb stuck me with the sharpened end of a plunger

Now it’s me and Grieves in a shallow grave

Next to J. Biebs and Azalea’s pale humungous butt

That I rest my head upon for my perpetual slumber

We frail and wretched kvetch and wail

It’s curtains, my days are numbered

And I’m numb to the pain, yet one remaining certainty gives me comfort

I made a living yelling my opinions loudly

Thinking I might matter if I drew a crowd, see

Now, my lily cheek on Iggy’s chilly cheeks

I finally see that the future will be fine without me

Nothing is entitled to be mine

I’m a token of a broken time

And maybe there’s survivors on the surface in LeSabres working on

Tomorrow sipping red, red wine

Red, red, red, red, red, red, red wine