WESTBORO BAPTIST TWERK

Uh

Breakdance on the graves of my detractors

This mage cap’s not for fashion

Dabble killing liches Unmask any Casper.

Fast.

Yeah I’m hungry, hear my stomachs when I’m rappin

Hatched in a backwood where brown means black

And black means otherness

And that means mask it

Or land in another hole

White and black striped “No access”

Might get snatched if you try it with the praxis

Cash

Collect it or you’ll end up on the street

Fascism in the water

Y’all spazzin on a beat

With a 6 pack handy

Cans on the beach

“That’s swag for the wildlife

Not trash in the sea”

Man it’s backwards

Skipped class,

Learned that my class isn’t free?

God Damnit!

We’re actively deceived for the handlers!!!

Probably shouldn’t hand them the keys

But the amazon packages come fast and they’re cheap

Damn

Who’s hands bled for the greed

That convenience inevitably breeds?

Ours.

And

Who stands next as a shield

When the fan get splattered in fecal?

Us.

Fam

The truth can’t actually help

It’s the action. Its absence is felt.

“But the path’s full of ashes and pelts

And there’s glass in the wells

It’s a raggedy hell

Just imagine, right?”

No

I would rather dance with some devils

Than chance that our planet gets leveled for assets

So

We should probably gather together

And attack as a mass our oppressor

But yeah I’m just guessing

I can proudly swag on a record

But I can’t make a man get a weapon

That’s asking for vengeance

(No thanks)

Just hand me some hash and I’m kelvin

I‘ll happily bask in the hellish

Yeah

The apathy’s maddening I get it

But atrophy can’t be any better

Either way we’re gambling for dinner

Id plan a revolution and a half

But you’d have to be with

It

And man that’s a pretty big ask

To deliver

Uncle Sam’s got gas for his dissidents

And stacks for the rats

And the chickens el pastor

Stash full of gizzards

I’m cat chasin crickets in a 1- bath ap.

Not a match

If capital’s king

The pauper can die mad

Battling a cough

That the doctor won’t even sigh at

Until he gets the copay

“Sorry but you’re dyin gramps.

Sign the dotted line and take some Tylenol. Bye thanks”

A batch of ya won’t even buy masks

The next one gon be worse

You’ll go outside then too

We’re livid and impotent

And denied fact

Like “which politician gon lead the people to Zion?”

(Ha!)

Meanwhile we’ll eagerly mine diamond

For two lukewarms a cot

And a bottle of Vyvanse

I’m tryin but pessimism is free

It’s a side effect of society’s tireless entropy

Mind the fires

It’s been raining gasoline

And napalm

I could stay top my soapbox for weeks

Naming names and placing faces on red string