1. |
One Fall
02:43
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Let me tell you people something right now
Shut up until I put this mic down
And lay waste to every act in the game
Then you’ll have permission to be chanting my name
I came up in the locals then NXT I was Raw
Tonight you’ll catch a Smack Down your face to your jaw
No manager or partner, just a monster
A One Man Gang, I’m decimating the roster
I’ve locked up with the best of them, toppled them all
Working day and night to rock with you, off the wall
No holds barred like an all-out pub brawl
The following contest is scheduled for one fall
Oh and I’m gonna take it
Your pay per view win streak, I’m gonna break it
Your name in the hall of fame, I will erase it
Born to play the heel, never gonna face it
I’m climbing up the ladder past you and higher
Retire you and laugh as the last of the fire
From your fans in the cheap seats is dying down
You can’t see me, my time is now
I’ve locked up with the best of them, toppled them all
Working day and night to rock with you, off the wall
No holds barred like an all-out pub brawl
The following contest is scheduled for one fall
Ooh, and it’s gonna be you
Taking that fall from the top rope BOOM
You’re putting me over tonight, I’m putting you through
The broadcast table, brother, what you gonna do?
Been a legend killer on the circuit for years
Dishing out the injuries that finish careers
You’re face down now, nearly fatally harmed
Hearing “here is your winner” when they’re raising my arm
I’ve locked up with the best of them, toppled them all
Working day and night to rock with you, off the wall
No holds barred like an all-out pub brawl
The following contest is scheduled for one fall
Woo! And I’m gonna win it
I will have you tapping out or pinned within minutes
Leave your legacy in tatters and diminished
Space is the place, and the sky is the limit, yeah
Less a man than a beast made of rage
When I’m tossing your body off of the top of the cage
And you’re ruined, I walk away the champ undisputed
With the belt around my waist as they’re playing my music
I’ve locked up with the best of them, toppled them all
Working day and night to rock with you, off the wall
No holds barred like an all-out pub brawl
The following contest is scheduled for one fall
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2. |
Skills to Pay the Bills
03:08
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Lyrics by Adam Yauch, Adam Horowitz and Michael Diamond (1992).
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3. |
Mark and Beverly
03:20
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I’m a terror in jeans, like every therapist’s dream
And while the other one is dressed up in a suit with the seams
Maybe purple showing out his pocket square with a laugh
We’re the walking dead, eating everything in our path
And maybe you shouldn’t ask about our pasts, like did you see that?
I will kick you in the face, and I will break your knee caps
And we blow this doors out this, bloody beaten
Leave you on the pavement, motherfucking Steven Malkmus
Oh yes I’m indie or something, you think it’s nerdcore or nothing
I’m smoking sausage in the shack while powder dusting your muffins
Cold coffee, hot pizza on the track
Brass knuckles on my hands when I meet you in the back
You could swear I’m a fiend, I’m rage against the machine
Back in the 90’s when your politics were more on the scene
I hold a pro-choice sign at your pro-life function
Screaming “legalize weed!” because you ain’t saying nothing
Beverly Hills, that’s where I want to be
Living in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills, rolling like a celebrity
Living in Beverly Hills
Here comes trouble, son, listen, it's another one
From M & E, your enemies are all out of bubblegum
Thump you like a drum - bum - bum - bum ba dum
Dump the mic and run, dumb dumb, you're done
One comes from a past age, one had a crack phase
Each of them is sicker than a villager with black plague
Both admired idols who inspire rappers' hope
Will you ever be as dope? Long answer: nope
I suggest you listen to your language, learn some new terms
Like "mark," a word that serves as both a noun and a verb
You're just plain lazy on it, slurring your sounds
While I go John Wayne Gacy on it, murderous clown
I'm breaking it down I'm staking a claim at the crown taking the gates at the pound
Siccing the pit bulls upon you and watching you wailing and shake on the ground
Maybe it's now you’ll realize that stepping to mics is the same as just making a mess
Silly rappers, try and act like you ain't facing the best
Beverly Hills, that’s where I want to be
Living in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills, rolling like a celebrity
Living in Beverly Hills
If you’re a bad motherfucker named Mark, everybody say
Rock rock on, rock rock on
If you’re a bad motherfucker named Eugene, everybody say
Do that shit, do that shit, come on
If you’re a bad motherfucker named Mark, everybody say
Rock rock on, rock rock on
If you’re a bad motherfucker named Beverly, then you say
Do that shit, do that shit, come on
Beverly Hills, that’s where I want to be
Living in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills, rolling like a celebrity
Living in Beverly Hills
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4. |
Pockets
03:21
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I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets
And in my pockets I got a lot of objects
Anything you want I bet I probably got it
‘Cause I got an awful lot in my pockets
I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets
And in my pockets I got a lot of objects
Maybe I’m a hoarder or whatever you call it
But yeah, I got a lot of stuff in my pockets
What I’m always telling you? PKW
Phone, keys, wallet, Ilana, PKW
I’m running through an inventory of my pockets
Phone, keys, wallet, wallet, keys, phone, wallet – got it
Check them off the list and see what we missed
Got a cool mint spritzer in a Listerine Mist
Next to a Chapstick, flavor: original
Four black rubber gloves, I ain’t even kidding, y’all
I got a handkerchief and half a pack of Chiclets
A gold adapter and some old raffle tickets
Eleven ultra lights left in a pack
A fresh Bic lighter (What color is it?) black, duh
A paperclip, a Duane Reade receipt
Apple earbuds and a couple of beats
A fine point roller ball, a notebook too
In which I wrote these lyrics and drew pictures of dicks
I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets
And in my pockets I got a lot of objects
Anything you want I bet I probably got it
‘Cause I got an awful lot in my pockets
I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets
And in my pockets I got a lot of objects
Maybe I’m a hoarder or whatever you call it
But yeah, I got a lot of stuff in my pockets
And if it gets intense, I got a leather collar
I got fifty cents and forty-seven dollars
A lucky talisman, a foot from a rabbit, son
Half a dozen bullets though I never really had a gun
A cookie fortune with a sick prediction
Sixty doses each of my six prescriptions
A macaroni poster that a little kid made
A switchblade comb, also got a switchblade
A broken bracelet that states I’m living fabulous
A room key card from the Hyatt Minneapolis
I have a hammer, I got a power sander
And a mint condition ’82 Cobra Commander
I got power chargers and batteries for days
Talking 9 volts, D-cells, triple double A’s
An inaccurate schematic for a nuclear bomb
And an autographed photograph of me and your mom
I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets
And in my pockets I got a lot of objects
Anything you want I bet I probably got it
‘Cause I got an awful lot in my pockets
I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets
And in my pockets I got a lot of objects
Maybe I’m a hoarder or whatever you call it
But yeah, I got a lot of stuff in my pockets
I got some coasters and coke mirrors and frisbees
And every CD every local band ever gives me
I got a sailboat, it’s got a missing rudder
Got a loaf of bread, container of milk, a stick of butter
An untouched 35mm print of Star Wars
A peanut butter cup, a couple of car doors
From a DeLorean, a portrait of Dorian
I got a bunch of live goddamn scorpions
I got a mannequin and a jack-o-lantern
A bottle of pinot and a glass decanter
I got bedbugs, a slug bug and a pair of pliers
I got earplugs, a butt plug, I’m wearing a wire
A full set of horseshoes and a pony bridle
An ice sculpture of a moose on a motorcycle
The Mona Lisa crafted in ceramic beads
Got a pepperoni pizza and a bag of weed
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5. |
Yes (RoboRob Remix)
02:46
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Ooh, whatchoo wanna do, boo? What you get into?
I just wanna bounce up out and have some fun with you
There’s something wild behind your smile, I see it trickle through
Maybe we can teach each other a new trick or two
So where to? My place or yours?
Or anywhere where we can get behind closed doors?
I’ll gladly go and grab us up a cab, but before that
I must ensure that everything is well above board, yeah
Here’s my full name, and here’s my address
In case you want to send them to your best friend in a text
And let them know where you’re going, who you’re with and when you leave
Or even ask them if there’s anything they’ve heard about me
We’ve had a couple drinks tonight, are you impaired?
Are you stumbling? Are you fucked up? Or are you aware
And coherent and quite capable of making decisions?
Then cool, but I’ll keep asking for conviction
And we go one, two, three and to the four
Though your words say yes, I’ma need a little more
I know you want it when you react with intent
But first I need that enthusiastic consent
And we go four, three, two and to the one
I’ll be checking checking in even after we’re done
But before we progress, stop, before we undress
I’ma need a lot more than a yes
I don’t see the mere fact you flirt with me
As a sealed contract of our sexual certainty
It doesn’t matter what you said when you were sexting me
It only matters how you say it when you’re next to me
And I don’t care if we’ve done it before
Or if earlier we made out on the dance floor
For if tonight you change your mind, fall asleep or say stop
Then that’s when this stops
But this isn’t just about your consent to my desires
Let’s talk about what you want and what lights your fire
You want me begging? (I’m into it) In leggings? (I’m into it)
Are you interested in pegging? (Into it)
This could be amazing once concerns are assuaged
And we’re good, giving and game and on the same page
Everything in black and white and crystal clearer than day
No blurred lines, no shades of grey
And we go one, two, three and to the four
Though your words say yes, I’ma need a little more
I know you want it when you react with intent
But first I need that enthusiastic consent
And we go four, three, two and to the one
I’ll be checking checking in even after we’re done
But before we progress, stop, before we undress
I’ma need a lot more than a yes
And we go five, six, seven to the eight
No means no is never up for debate
And the lack of a no isn’t the same as a yes
And a yes isn’t the same as an oh my god, yes
And if that sentiment is expressed
We can indulge to excess or only caress
But before we progress, stop, before we undress
I’ma need a lot more than a yes
When I ask “you wanna?” you say “yes”
When I ask “this ok?” you say “oh, yes”
When I ask “into it?” you say “fuck yes”
When I ask “keep going?” you say “no”
Well, then this is done
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6. |
Coffee
02:47
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Tumble out of bed, and then I stumble to the kitchen
Pour a cup of motherfucking ambition
And then another one, and then another one
And then I tell myself yo, time to go, I’m getting nothing done
And then another one, and hit the ground running
Eyeballs vibrating, blood pumping
Make it three blocks, stop into a shop, and then another one
I ain’t even teasing, barista, keep them coming
I’ve done dozens of substances dumped them into my brain
I’ve snorted meth, smoked crack, done a ton of cocaine
I’ve used painkillers, booze, smoked an acre of weed
But the drug I’ll never quit, the only one that I need
Is that coffee – there’s just never enough
Of that coffee – hot black god in a cup
I need coffee – when I’m off and unstable
Bring me coffee – just leave the pot on the table
Been addicted for forever, I remember when we’d call
A pot of coffee mixed with bong rips a hippie speedball
You got what I need, you say that I’m just a fiend
While I’m doing lines of Turkish grind, chewing on robusta beans
And you must’ve seen me at the Dunkin’ D
Bench-pressing French presses, high functioning
Ain’t got a problem, and I’m not gonna stop
Come on pop on a fresh pot and keep on topping me off
I’ve tried religion and philosophy, karate in lessons
Meditation, astrology, lots of anti-depressants
I’ve tried every known sex act and tried them all twice
But none of them touch my most reliable vice
And that’s coffee – give your insides a hug
With that coffee – like liquid love in a mug
I need coffee – at its worst it’s still never bad
Give me coffee – best friend I’ve ever had
I’ll take it piping hot, I’ll take it on ice
Line up those espresso shots, I’ll pay any price
Yeah, I’ll take it right now, talk to me later, neighbor
I’ll take it if a fish was in the percolator, hater
Take it in sorbet, take it with Bailey’s
Awakening heroic doses, I take them daily
Bring another carafe, I’m ready for more
But if you’re bringing decaf, we’re headed for war
I’ve done dozens of substances, dumped them into my brain
I’ve snorted meth, smoked crack, done a ton of cocaine
I’ve used painkillers, booze, smoked an acre of weed
But the drug I’ll never quit, the only one that I need
Is that coffee – there’s just never enough
Of that coffee – hot black god in a cup
I need coffee – when I’m off and unstable
Bring me coffee – just leave the pot on the table
Yo, I get a bloody nose huffing nutty overtones
Sucking down another cup, buzzing like a junkie’s phone
Giggling idiot, I tickle both funny bones
Feel like Jackpots, looking like Dougie Jones
Cold overdosing going for another one
And then another one at 3am, I’m never done
Wide awake shaking, I should be in my bed
And then another one, fuck it, y’all, I’ll sleep when I’m dead
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7. |
It's a Wonderful Death
03:51
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Now tell me have you ever died before?
Have you ever realized your life was no more?
Have you ever looked down from up high in the sky
And watched your loved ones cry as they all bid you goodbye?
Well, I have. I’ve died in numerous ways
Hell, I die every other time I step on a stage
I’ve died in my dreams, killed by things bigger than me
I’ve died a million times, but never literally
And so I don’t know what resides on the other side
After we die, and know what? Nobody else does either
Despite no lack of answers from our world’s religions
With their ideas based in ancient fantasy fiction
I know we’re born then we grow then we’re old then we’re bored
Then we fight to the death and we die by the sword
Our world turns black, but a bright light calls
And we move into it as our final curtain falls
Hey hey hey, everybody, we’re all gonna die
So raise your glasses high 'cause we’re all gonna die
There’s nothing to fear, baby, no reason to cry
Just live the hell out of your life and never stop to ask why
I’m asking for ashes, I’m all dust or bust
There’s not a single theory about the afterlife I can trust
Like what if they’re right, and there really is a heaven
With all angels and virgins and clouds, seven seven seven
And ever at peace, and everyone’s so goddamn nice
And for this everything in my life was sacrificed
Forever and ever, for a life without sin?
Well, fuck that and fuck heaven, now I’ll never get in
Hell is the alternative, the religious version and
An eternal life of Satanic subservience
Submerged in a fiery lake of brimstone, no
I know I’m evil, but I’d never, no I’d never wanna go
But if they’re right, and I do go when my life ends
At the very least I’ll know that in hell I’ll have friends
Maybe the big guy and I’ll learn to get along
Perhaps Old Scratch will even like this song
Hey hey hey, everybody, we’re all gonna die
You in the back there, you’re gonna die
Throw your hands up in the front ‘cause you’re gonna die
Everybody outside walking by’s gonna die
It’s useless to resist the cold chill of death’s trappings
The reaper comes violent or silently while you’re napping
I might even die while I’m on the mic rapping
When the breath has left the flesh, we all know what happens
Our bodies grow stiff and cold like mold in a kitchen
Our corpses spend quality time alone with morticians
Poked, prodded, embalmed and who knows what else
Then we’re painted till we barely even look like ourselves
Displayed in a casket, gasped at by those who weep
Driven to a cemetery, buried six feet deep
Or placed into an oven where our bodies are burned
Reduced to nothing but ashes which are gathered in urns
Sometimes scattered rather than stashed in a drawer
Often left unclaimed like all the Does in a morgue
Unless you’re a twin or half a suicide pact
You’re born alone, you’ll die alone, that’s a fact
We all are slowly dying from the time of our birth
When the heart stops beating, we return to the earth
But first join in a chorus for the void is before us
Before our final performance as corpses with rigor mortis
Hey hey hey, everybody, we’re all gonna die
So raise your glasses high ‘cause we’re all gonna die
There’s nothing to fear, baby, no reason to cry
Just live the hell out of your life and never stop to ask why
Hey hey hey, everybody, we’re all gonna die
So raise your glasses high ‘cause we’re all gonna die
There’s nothing to fear, baby, no reason to cry
Just live the hell out of your life and never stop to ask why
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8. |
Clouds
03:12
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I see you struggling, I see you’re stressed and
You try to hide your suffering, but I’m your best friend
I see the hurt and disappointment in your joylessness
Swallowing your anger and your sadness, and it’s poisonous
And every morning you rise to fight your battle again
You try to focus on the good or else the bad will get in
But there is help, there’s a fix for every problem known
I hope you know that there is hope in this, you’re not alone
You feel it all around yourself
When your thoughts pour and spill like your mind has floored the throttle
Take the little orange pills that you find in orange bottles
You know it's yours and no one else
When the cues to flight still come noon and night and awful
Take the blue and white pills in the blue and white bottles
You feel the thought of learning again, it's all around
All along, near, above and underground
You're tired of all the things you did, you'll work it out
You truly belong here with us among the clouds
Now isn’t that better? It’s like a teething ring
Now you can function, but you no longer feel a thing
Delete your spark so you can start to let the rest in
Like you won the worst badge attached it with the best pin
When you’re in the clouds, imagine that it’s heaven
As your AJ6 enables Code Force Seven
Take solace, you got this, I gotta fight a battle too
I gotta go, but I promise, Lo, I’ll come back for you
You feel it all around yourself
When your thoughts pour and spill like your mind has floored the throttle
Take the little orange pills that you find in orange bottles
You know it's yours and no one else
When the cues to flight still come noon and night and awful
Take the blue and white pills in the blue and white bottles
You feel the thought of learning again, it's all around
All along, near, above and underground
You're tired of all the things you did, you'll work it out
You truly belong here with us among the clouds
We won’t be goners, this won’t destroy us
We would be honored if you would join us
The time you’ve squandered has left you voiceless
We would be honored if you would join us
Life is stronger, no longer pointless
We would be honored if you would join us
Time for the Bacta, no more avoidance
We would be honored if you would join us
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9. |
Father
04:13
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There is a house in a town called Brooks
And in ’45 a boy was born and blessed with good looks
And charm, his father was Laverne Sr., but everybody
Called him “Jocko,” everybody called his new junior “Buddy”
And Buddy’s mother was Lottie Veronica, and after she’d
Had Nellie Diane, Buddy rounded out the family
When Jocko got a job with the county, it was time
To move the Schaffers into Corning, it was ‘59
And Buddy was a teen drawing hot rods, listening to rock songs
Cracking jokes, but then it was not long
Before at 21, when the fun ended fast
For even Buddy’s bad ear couldn’t save him from the draft
And that’s when Buddy went to Vietnam on his mission
To serve in the Airborne 101st Division
A helicopter gunner hovering above Saigon
Buddy from Iowa could see that his childhood was gone
A class clown joker always looking for fun
A drinking smoker with a baby boy, he only had one
And he is his father’s son
A smart-ass trouble maker since he was young
Hard-living sarcastic sharp-tongued son of a gun
And I am my father’s son
Bud became a man among the battle and the madness
But when he got back, he brought back some baggage and bad habits
Scrapping, tossed out the local tavern, his palace
And that is around the time when Bud met Alice
In six months they were married, March of ‘71
And moved into a little house with her 6-year-old son
It was three years before by a stroke of fate, see
In ’74 when Bud and Alice made me
And his quartet dwelled for five years on 6th Street
He was working at the garage or sipping beers and fishing
Soon his habits turned to problems, booze and coke
Jocko passed away, Bud’s family unit broke
And after his divorce, he moved back in with his mom
And continued to use, a short fuse on a ticking bomb
Crashed some cars, broke some hearts, man, people are strange
Bud from Iowa could see it was time for a change
A class clown joker always looking for fun
A drinking smoker with a baby boy, he only had one
And he is his father’s son
A smart-ass trouble maker since he was young
Hard-living sarcastic sharp-tongued son of a gun
And I am my father’s son
By 1981, Dad’s life had grown messy
Then a woman named Ramona came along like a blessing
Lovely and kind, a sign that life could be better
But first and for himself he had to get his act together
And that first step that he so needed in the worst way
He checked into rehab on his son’s 10th birthday
Clean and sober, he’d never felt more alive
Moved to Des Moines with Ramona, married in ‘85
He went from treatment straight to training and in ’90 became
A certified addiction counselor, a life with new aim
Worked in hospitals and prisons helping other troubled persons
His demons hadn’t beaten him, instead they gave him purpose
Laverne Dean “Bud” Schaffer Jr. is a survivor
A veteran and a healer, Mr. Fix-It like MacGuyver
A gamer and a runner and a man with many titles
A bad motherfucker, my dad and my idol
A class clown joker always looking for fun
A drinking smoker with a baby boy, he only had one
And he is his father’s son
A smart-ass trouble maker since he was young
Hard-living sarcastic sharp-tongued son of a gun
And I am my father’s son
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10. |
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Yo, we never even knew where they came from
Maybe the ocean floor or so say some
Others speculated that they came from outer space
All we know is that they did come upon the planet’s face
Those monsters, horrible things
With gaping jaws, razor sharp claws and wings
All covered in fur, feathers and nails, lizardish scales
With tails they dragged behind them leaving glistening trails
They emerged like something straight from our worst dreams
Sirens started sounding at the sounds of the first screams
Panic in the streets as people ran lest they got caught
Crying out, “what fresh hell hath our god wrought?”
Locked up all our doors, cocked our guns and we called cops
Loaded up our shelters with supplies, pulled out all stops
But none of that was necessary, seems we were in luck
‘Cause the monsters weren’t interested in us, they just want to fuck
Monsters – creeping, crawling, shrieking, balling
All those fucking monsters
Horrible things
They’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming
They were fuck monsters, yeah, monsters who fuck monsters
Like sci-fi creatures from an X-rated Buck Rogers
One-track reptilian brains fucking one another
Stop, drop and roll, duck and cover, motherfucker
Sex beasts with two backs in many pairs
Going in and out of one another, fucking everywhere
And even there in hiding spots, we shook to the core
When we heard the monsters’ awful roar
Each of them had ten dicks, ten clits and ten tits
And countless freaky fingers fucking filling every orifice
Ten pussies, ten assholes and ten mouths
From which the thickest viscous ropes of drool would spill out
They were sucking and fucking, choking and gagging, spitting, slapping
Or jacking off watching the most graphic acts you can imagine
Like some hentai kaiju with sex toys and everything
Fuck, fill, enjoy anything
Monsters – creeping, crawling, shrieking, balling
All those fucking monsters
Horrible things
They’re coming, they’re coming, and then they’ll come again
Monsters – feeding, gnashing, freaky, nasty
Oh, those fucking monsters
Horrible things
They’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming
And soon we had a global epidemic on our hands
But our noblemen and presidents and priests had hatched a plan
Phoned up France, warned them to pass on the bloody wrath
Tuned in Tokyo, told them to just clear a fucking path
Since they never slept or ate, they only topped or bottomed
With caution we watched some monsters drop from exhaustion
When one would fall from fatigue, the others, no doubt
Would crawl inside its dead body and fuck their way out
Twisted into 69s and triple DPs
These beasties brought themselves to rug-burned bloody knees
They fucked themselves to death, and it was heard on the tube
They left behind ponds of cum, streets slick and sticky with lube
And a whole lot of monster bodies that were gathered and burned
You may ask with some concern, “but did they ever return?”
Well, two of them remained, and they’ve been here all along
They just donned some human costumes, now they’re singing this song
Monsters – creeping, crawling, shrieking, balling
Oh, we’re fucking monsters
Horrible things
We’re coming, we’re coming, and then we’ll come again
Monsters – feeding, gnashing, freaky, nasty
Oh, we’re fucking monsters
Horrible things
We’re coming, we’re coming, we’re coming, we’re coming
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11. |
In the Air Tonight
05:31
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Lyrics by Phil Collins (1981).
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12. |
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Come and set me
These chains on me won't let me be
You got the keys, come rescue me
These chains on me won't let me be
You got the keys, come set me free
Come set me free, come set me free
You got the keys, come rescue me
Come set me free, come set me free
You got the keys, come rescue me
Hey, what up? That’s what the kids’ll say
When I grip the mic and let all the spittle spray
I’ve been at this for ages, I’ve come a little way
As I fist pump my way into my middle age
And I’ve uncovered some fallacies along the way
And I’ve encountered some challenges from every way
One thing I’ve learned from taking damages every day
Is at the very least, I am good at making lemonade
From these rotten lemons I am often given I am swimming
In a pond of venom with very some awful men and women
Trimming minutes off my life, I ain’t sinking, I am winning
I ain’t quitting, I am kicking, I won’t hit the bottom with them
I will stand very tall, living large, love it all
Holler back, do the job, MPFM, RoboRob
Throbbing like techno, sobbing? Aw, heck no
Roller skate, disco, let’s go, yo
I’ve been trip tripping how I’m slip slipping now I’m
Sick of it, a liberal fill of it, dip dipping out I’m
Gone, I was never here, smoke bomb disappear
Listen to invisible idiots, kick kicking out I’ve
Slipped cruxifixes into vampires’ hands when I’ve shaken them
Given truth to fixes when the liars act on erasing them
But now I’m isolated and
I can finally find some silence as an island of a man
I will go it solo, I will roll alone with no one, no and though
The road is cold and lonely, I will know I chose the only
One that I can trust, a just belief that I don’t stop believing
People leave you nothing needed, fuck them, brother, I don’t need them
Once in darkness, living in night
Though I still got a bark, it’s not as bad as my bite
And I still hate my enemies with all of my spite
I need youze, Mylene Cruz, to show me the light
Come on
Whoever says he’s in the light and hates his brother
Is still in darkness, still in darkness through the night
Above all we gotta love each other deeply
‘Cause love, love, love does the most to the city
My lips will shout for joy when I sing praise of you
When I can feel you inside
And I will ascend above the highest of the clouds
And make myself the most high
Hi, hi, whoa whoa, wait wait, what what happened?
I was just rapping, I was just having a good time
And then my shell started cracking
Everything started unraveling
Scramble to gather up the pieces of the mess of my life
That I made when they all got scattered
I lie and I cry and I just wanna die
But I know no way I ain’t letting that happen
Oh no everybody chill a second
I’ma get this trainwreck in check I reckon
I’ma go no more woe is me self-pity
I’ma get myself a little speck of perspective and check it
Both broken and broke but the fact
Is that I got a lot of people that have got my back
And I’m in good hands when my family, my friends and my fans
Come rescue me
Come set me free, come set me free
You got the keys, come rescue me
Come set me free, come set me free
(I will stand very tall, I won’t hit the bottom with them)
You got the keys, come rescue me
(I will stand very tall, I won’t hit the bottom with them)
And I will ascend above the highest of the clouds
And make myself, and make myself
Like the most high
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Schaffer the Darklord
Schaffer the Darklord (or STD) is a New York City-based rapper and comedian with material best-suited for brainy and/or drug- addled audiences. With manic energy, verbose vocabulary and cartoonishly commanding stage presence, STD skewers such topics as hedonistic substance abuse, sexual compulsion, urban anxiety and obsessive cat-enthusiasts. ... more
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