Lost Arts

I hear something It's coming from below I think you've become mad Almost as if something is moving below us Act a little peculiar, and, and you're an outsider Perhaps you've always been mad Uh-huh We interrupt this program to bring you a live Broadcast from the Western Funk but now resurrecting lost arts Don't you feel it? Brigham Revolution is knockin' Resolution is knowledge Get yo hand out my pocket No weapon made can conquer my inner pain I started my evolution of rhymin', persecuted, indicted They instituted the violence that started my defiance Give no respect or alliance Less men get rich than ones who die tryin' Less making commitments, dollars have no pious Show you how to move in a den full of lions If the dinner ain't cookin' you gotta know where to find it Even if you paint pretty You can't change the climate of my inner sanctum My hard work is thankless, bold print the statement I could show you somethin' that's suited for all ages Back when I used to hide the heist in crawlspaces All for the cause to blank slate ya faces From the sinister cemetery, real-life visionary, not preliminary My kingdom is ruled by vikings Why we can't have nice things When that hunger rings watch as they resort to biting Why I look crookedly, took from me everything Off the rope and out the tree to Washington Booker T Watch the way you talk to me because I speak awfully Even when mocking me, you gotta do it awkwardly Often dark thoughts be givin' me these allergies When I sneeze, who's gonna bless me? Counted one blessing and then it got depressing Not down to get seen with your team, stop suggesting we Make it our business to see and remain different Same day, different dark feeling, black state of living Counterfeits keep tryna hack my religion Every night I pray "let all but the wack be forgiven" Aye, my igna, you ain't nobody till they make a wax figure Rap cinema, call the minister What I administer is sinister Pitiful, pivotal, criminal, lyrical prisoner Remember the signature when I deliver the finisher Born and risen with Menace miniatures Dropped dead center in this sinners dilemma Don't make fun of the surface, they just ain't used to the tremors While I keep it a sweet life, my pocket'o bitters Makes my air a bit thinner, I'm what remains on the filter You should be more considerate, pay your anguish a visit Raided the village just to make the place more militant Painted an image and I don't give a Braille who feelin' it Nailed the sentiment while I'm out breaking my ligaments Snatchin' ya block's citizens, I'm fillin' 'em with degenerates Mad! Mad! Seein' things, or not seein' it I'm gettin' outta here!