And I say like this, your playing has been turned [?], unbeautiful, [?] everything you could think of
Do you feel angry?

No I don't
Reason I play so many, so many sounds
Maybe it sounds angry
Because I'm trying so many things at one time
You see, I haven't sorted em out
I have a whole bag of things that I'm trying to work through and get the [?] 's into

Put your fuckin hands down, I'm not here to save you
More to infiltrate and enslave you
My rhymes are American, my swagger is imperial
I got you in a choke hold - mental and material
The beat is funerial, the song is a dirge
I sing in procession with a bunch of rap nerds
In the cold distance hear the wild cats growl
Four riders approach, the wind begins to howl
Record store's a graveyard, zombies in the aisles
Tombstones created as the artists get filed
Sheeple in a deep sleep bleatin as the wolves creep
Poison drippin from their teeth as crack in vials
Sippin on delirium, slippin into dream's
My boat is raw power, but I'm gentle on the streams
The object of desire was the cause of despair
Cause my head got turned now I'm stuck in derriere
Destiny's a blind man, keeper of the books
The words seem to change every single time he looks
Rain water, fresh mud, sky gray haze
Took the day off just to sit back