• Tell me
    which way is up,
    'cause the game is underpaying us,
    and the wave of time? Degrading us,
    lick a rhyme...
    ...I think of all the times I
    fought with me, all the time it took to
    live to see the very object of my
    fallacy, the only birthplace of
    ignominy, I can't erase that stupid
    [alibi, why can't I die, can't even find a reason why
    I look like that to everybody, extraordinary, an adversary,
    so I keep my tongue incendiary, the ******** do I care, it keeps me wary,
    so be aware, it's rude to stare, and there's nothing there that's really scary
    'cause I live this life in controversy, and I write the verses and the verses hurt me,
    it's the verses versus me, the worst rehearsal of the
    dirge of personal re-necromancy.
    So yeah, those lines are nothing fancy,
    when you prance through my life in your bra and panties,
    and dance to the dance of the dancing pants that
    Santa granted to really antsy.
    So I can't put a lance through your hands the first time,
    guess I gotta prance to this dance of yours, fine.
    But I'll rant and I'll swear and I can't give up my old
    grandstand antics... I'm due for a spanking.
    So I live a lie to the rants of that brain,
    chuck a brick through that glass window pane,
    sing along to the glory train when your
    heart stops smack in the middle of the same lane,
    holes riddled in the side of the mind, sa
    vor all the times I stood by your
    side, then again, i'm not surprised if I find out how to read my lines and
    live a little, break my stride, swallow pride,
    not cyanide, live and learn to bide my time like a
    parasite, can I get a sign for another life? Here it is. Live your alternate side,
    breaking through from that practical pragmatic, never live the life that you lied,
    seal yourself in that concrete rectangle, never see the sun shining outside.
    Live alone like a warrior sage, at the best you'll be somebody's guide,
    never live for yourself. Why not? You're mediocre even if you say that you tried.
    You tell the tale of the classic imbecile, through your words and your hands and actions,
    a blast from the past when we broke the back
    of Africans and told them all that God's not black and
    we cracked a glass of Jack, and they clapped and
    jacked off their egoes to the sound of sacked
    tobacco and the clack of the cash register
    was the crack of America, from George to the black man
    in a white house. So while my wording is a light house,
    breaking through the fog of a tepid sea,
    so are we. We are the hope of a new generation
    that's permanently suckered to a TV station.
    I might not be the best choice seen to be the
    savior of the children, but the choice we're faced with is
    Whatever keeps the kids from getting wasted,
    cause the mind of a child's got no replacement.
    And now you ********' young adults
    have got a taste of the craze that's truly tasteless.
    How do you worship an icon that's faceless?
    Get a little personality, then wear those goddamn
    Livestrong bracelets. You say it's a waste of human life to fade away and die from cancer,
    so live while your body's strong, break into the main tail
    winds in your mind, don't tag along without an answer.
    Live a little. Try to work with your hands,
    when you follow those bands of "culture" running underneath
    our lives, try to chart the course of fate, see what you can now create, now ******** move your a**.

    And get off my seat.