Poetic Occupation
Ancient Astronauts
GENRE
The tip of the tongue (tongue)
The teeth and the lips (lips)
The tip of the tongue (tongue)
The teeth and the lips
Dunno
ETC Oration Take Charge
BPs
I give you bird flu symptoms
Cause goose pimples
Kama sutra sky, smoothe diction
I go through the book, invent six new positions (bitches)
There's a reason rappers can't fuck with it
Is it what I say or the beat that I say it on
I'm just sayin' every song is a seance
No ghost writers, the thoughts are born of scorn
Beautiful torture, a dangerous art form
I rhyme for a reason, rhyme my pеr diem
'til my eyes look Korеan and my mind's a museum
Masterpiece scare, the occupation: daydreaming
Dealer of a eloquent speech and strange tinctions
Syllables and ritual magic, it's abstract
I pull a rat from a rabbit
Lean back, make good tracks from bad habits
And still write with blood mixed with ashes, 'aht dammit
Come on
[Chorus]
Is it (is it) (is it) what I say
Or the (or the) beat that I say it on
Poetry is my (ah ah) occupation
It (it it's) just (just a) soul obligation
I (I can) can feel it when I walk or when I whisper
Tryin' to make 'em understand the realness
So now, listen, while I school it
Yo, check it (bpbpbpbt)
I scribble sicker schizophrenic like I'm Sybil
Arabic, Jamaican, with Swahili in the middle
These devils have to fizzle, knowin' I pickup very little
Ghettofarian mumblin' and blood cleat riddles
Tell the judge I'm the son of a widow and if he wit’ it
I hit him with a sign and the charge gets acquitted
Picture this, it's tailor fitted I be the audio graffiti innit [inard?] niggas’ knees are metal and the streets are magnetic; edit
Fold your lips because I was chose to be a vocalist I shoot em up like bolsheviks n’ Slobodan Milošević (Soul)
We don’t back down for sh… they gassed your head up, huh?
Damn ’s foul shit
That’s foul but the murder rates thousands here
FEMA got new prison camps, black, I’m out of here
Bird flu diseases
Goosebumps through speakers
“Is that Ned the wino?” Nope, it’s Black Jesus
Nope it’s Black Jesus
Heheh… levitate on that
[Chorus]
Resurrect from the dead, from the slave ship
Horizontal through the dome, let the phrase hit
You got a check in my name in my government
Slave name, same game, another covenant
The aspect ratio when time’s gettin’ it
Feel like a parsec star emittin’ rays for all creatures
Bizarre avatars most demi-gods and divas
Take the poetry in phat transmissions to receivers
Believers keep a clear mind and a clean heart
Deceivers like to keep you off your game with the thieves arts
While we’re dealing in the realm with the grieving psalms
MCin’, stealin’ from the masters who defeated y’all
Beings of extraordinary assemblies and journeymen
Fall short of mastery, it has to be the burdening
Heavy head held in the hands from the servicing
Wordsmith niggas blood curdling emergencies
The teeth and the lips (lips)
The tip of the tongue (tongue)
The teeth and the lips
Dunno
ETC Oration Take Charge
BPs
I give you bird flu symptoms
Cause goose pimples
Kama sutra sky, smoothe diction
I go through the book, invent six new positions (bitches)
There's a reason rappers can't fuck with it
Is it what I say or the beat that I say it on
I'm just sayin' every song is a seance
No ghost writers, the thoughts are born of scorn
Beautiful torture, a dangerous art form
I rhyme for a reason, rhyme my pеr diem
'til my eyes look Korеan and my mind's a museum
Masterpiece scare, the occupation: daydreaming
Dealer of a eloquent speech and strange tinctions
Syllables and ritual magic, it's abstract
I pull a rat from a rabbit
Lean back, make good tracks from bad habits
And still write with blood mixed with ashes, 'aht dammit
Come on
[Chorus]
Is it (is it) (is it) what I say
Or the (or the) beat that I say it on
Poetry is my (ah ah) occupation
It (it it's) just (just a) soul obligation
I (I can) can feel it when I walk or when I whisper
Tryin' to make 'em understand the realness
So now, listen, while I school it
Yo, check it (bpbpbpbt)
I scribble sicker schizophrenic like I'm Sybil
Arabic, Jamaican, with Swahili in the middle
These devils have to fizzle, knowin' I pickup very little
Ghettofarian mumblin' and blood cleat riddles
Tell the judge I'm the son of a widow and if he wit’ it
I hit him with a sign and the charge gets acquitted
Picture this, it's tailor fitted I be the audio graffiti innit [inard?] niggas’ knees are metal and the streets are magnetic; edit
Fold your lips because I was chose to be a vocalist I shoot em up like bolsheviks n’ Slobodan Milošević (Soul)
We don’t back down for sh… they gassed your head up, huh?
Damn ’s foul shit
That’s foul but the murder rates thousands here
FEMA got new prison camps, black, I’m out of here
Bird flu diseases
Goosebumps through speakers
“Is that Ned the wino?” Nope, it’s Black Jesus
Nope it’s Black Jesus
Heheh… levitate on that
[Chorus]
Resurrect from the dead, from the slave ship
Horizontal through the dome, let the phrase hit
You got a check in my name in my government
Slave name, same game, another covenant
The aspect ratio when time’s gettin’ it
Feel like a parsec star emittin’ rays for all creatures
Bizarre avatars most demi-gods and divas
Take the poetry in phat transmissions to receivers
Believers keep a clear mind and a clean heart
Deceivers like to keep you off your game with the thieves arts
While we’re dealing in the realm with the grieving psalms
MCin’, stealin’ from the masters who defeated y’all
Beings of extraordinary assemblies and journeymen
Fall short of mastery, it has to be the burdening
Heavy head held in the hands from the servicing
Wordsmith niggas blood curdling emergencies
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