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von El-P

Live on a hot metal big burner bunsen
Combustion or something and so on, fuck it
See how the wrong side of the tracks
Made the dustedest flash that intellect
Dash to the wormhole, talk shit
Walk with a holy hawk raised
In a dog shit, bitch, click chatter box, duck
I'm a "holy fuck what did he just utter" marksman
Orphan, a whore born war torn, life for the harvest
A fair trade target of air raid, starter kit
Used heart plucked from the bargain bin
I don't give a fraction or fractal of fucks
I'm a garbage pail kid calamity artist
Pardon the pain puffs, smoke floats ring
Around martyrs, sing along, sat at piano
Lap of my father, watching him talk harmonic
Each key tapped to the BPM of the sirens
Sound like a raining of notes in a protest pose
Like a right string weaved on the keys
Could relieve us of doom
Give the room some silence, stop violence
Pop bounced and a mom with her three survivors
Got gone from the island, hopped to the
County of kings where the bounty of things
Not framed in past might last 'til the hatching
Of manhood's timing, hop in the timeline
See the turn style young hopper, not for the rock
For the talk good science alliance
Drunk and defiant, sunset started up all night
Crawl through the cracks in the halls
Of the battered up, scattered up
Middle finger dick held brick kids
Screaming at the top of our airbags
"This is our timing, we are not dying"
Not for you, not for you
Not for you, not for you
Not for you, not for you
Not for you, not for you
Not for you, not for you
Not for you, not for you
Not for you, not for you
Not for you, not, not, not for you