Kon Karne

歌詞

Darker than the East river, larger than the Empire State Where the beast who guard the barbed wire gate Is on the job-not my fate, tired of the wait 'Til the Villain bring deliverance from the dire straits Fire at a higher rate why'd they make the liars? Fliers scatter, buy a plate-isolate the wires Try the straight pliers, if not, the vice grips A real price-saver way to acquire nice whips What a steal for real on wheels of steel Stunner, a funner summer number-one meal deal-bummer A bizarre phenomenon-is your armor on? Take your cash, Karma, or break your fast-Ramadan Transaction drama-aw, come on, Barney Clack, clack-pardon me, whack rap con carne He came to feed the childrens like Sally Struthers After that, he's going back to Cali, where's the- ("-love is—") Wilder than the Nile, hold power like the great pyramids Of Giza, and stay leanin' like the tower of Pisa Give him something he can feel that's soft to squeeza Raw with the pen, and on the mic-off the hezza Get shot off that wide-eyed talk And if he had a pot-he'd still piss on the sidewalk Can't take the street out the street-person Lookin' for the perfect beat, coercion into heat-burstin' They couldn't spot him on the spot date Got the only tape that come with a free hot-plate Whoever do get to see me sing With the 3 D-ring, sittin' stationary like B.B. King Can see how it really sting-it ain't no front row Standing room only at the motocross stunt show The ruckus ain't up to Snuffleupagus Me and Sub' is like the brown Smothers Brothers ("My love is—") Vaster than the seven seas, bigger than Mount Kilimanjaro If they don't know, fill 'em in tomorrow On the horror show, a mental note: return Bob's record Swear to God, before he gets a job, he robs Eckerd Blessed with a hot flow-tested-it got dough Invested in stress, the best to finesse an opto As I reminisce, never forgot when I was very broke Shot the Henny straight, couldn't afford to cop the Cherry Coke Or should I say, broke with wealth? To know enough to give them just enough rope to yoke they self Plan B before I take the ring and pawn it The long arm of the law couldn't even put they fingers on it Dog-gone it-do the statistics How he bust lyrics-it's too futuristic for ballistics And far too eccentric for forensics I dedicate this mix to Subroc, the hip-hop Hendrix "In my pocket, a note. It's—from my father." "—from the guard's whip. Is this a trick? Why would I resort to trickery? You're already a prisoner. What do I gain by deceiving you? You can't blame me for being suspicious." "No." Hehe