Dead Pan

This be the dawning of the age of dead water

Stitchin every b-boy fragment

Somebody live enough to bust through the belly with a fist up

This is a right now generation murdered by the fan base

This is adored by the writers-Dead water

With a still force activated

No I'm not feelin alright

Formed by the village of badness and bad karma

Punched by the stagnant water gate threw the fickle back

But by the window's still three nickels in a piggy bank

Caught her with her head up funny stomach from the hunger pains

Flashed automatic b-boy with big visions

In a matchbox apartment adjacent a crooked starship

Who better nation a million's the only remedy

Nine dizzy planets with a bullet riding centerpiece

Take Me Through The Gates

I'm bout as sick of burning find the hottest slacker in a visionary costume

Con artist kamikaze conduct

Warm for a second to the minute he whored herself to disaster

I recognize the cankers by the mechanical stagger

As opposed to the skip of big brother bad slapper

Theologies who need to keep the cookies caffeinated

like a mad hatter that'll sleep now, ask after

Calibrate the happy scale when he's soakin

wet with a mouthful of dead ideas and see if it tipped zero

Stripped ego, tall stories of broad glory

I'll be god while you're still living life on a full 40

Or maybe I'll be gramacin, homes poor, broke and lonely

Hidden by my billygoat beard and cardboard monstrosity

I drink a bad glass of gumption

Not bad meaning bad, but bad meaning disgusting

Wildchild activater activate sludge enough to dungeon for a accolade and wild ones

I committed wild murder, went through the city

with a wild merger, woke up in a wildstyle burner

Space case, boom box, hate tapes, no lemonade breaks (sweat), no cheddar in labor days

Right now, im here to break a point of big system plus my screen

I was never cursed in a russmeyer bixon

Spit sob stories to confront my dick addictions

Of the dirty basement at the graves of Salem witches

Driving my stake through the face of painstaking business (checkmate)

But I scream Misery (better breath take)

Out of sleep, lifted up lobotomy, little Jackie paper

and a magic dragon sack of dirty shrubbery

I'll be the ugliest version of paranoia

kingpin set in motion by the secondhand pressure

Some get excited when the sun folds under

Some get excited when the summer hits the pavement

Some get excited when the bullet hits bone and a board

I'll escape through the train yard and sleep till it's broken

[same old]

This be the settling of debt of warm water

A mobile b-boy function

Somebody mad enough to cut apart the curtain with a fist up

This is the dagger in the 88 magnificent memorial

This is the heater to a movement-dead water

When I broke fifth and got sparks

No I'm not feelin alright

This be the windshear dodgin dead water

Solitary b-boy wonder

Somebody fresh enough to reinvent the court with a fist up

This is the funky outline around a classic breakbeat

This is an agitated moment-dead water

With a burnt future, beaten, ugly

No I'm not feelin' alright