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eaupulaca - departure (rap) lyrics

[verse 1: departure]
alternatively, i think i fancy that cap and then i shoot you first of all
suicide thought like biggie smalls, eaupulaca
what an ambiguous term to describe the 27 pitfalls of stardom
or shooting at parkway gardens
it’s unbefitting to be a rebel when you’re a cog in the machine
where crackheads see islam and tec*9’s as a very fancy thang
eaupulaca, here we go again, the blurring day by day
and my thoughts fly astray, fire particles in the ashtray
it’s whatever you want it to be, to stand besides me is a gift
i’d rather dilute my tears out with a sieve
and watch them fall into the drain to be lost forever
as if they absorbed into my shirt, on the text that said “death row records”
star quarterback wrecks his truck into a f*cking tree
and the abused*to*abuser father is the man left to grieve
a tweaker in the middle of the street
is run over by a car, but n0body stands at his feet
i’m staring at an art gallery, painting is titled “model with big hands”
and that was what i remembered as a fake guayasamin fan
it’s the witch’s sabbath, blah*blah, avid mammoth aptly yapping
i’ll cover my hands and smear black on the walls that tend to trap me
the return of the prodigal son is most boisterous
yet from the malevich painting, smiles fainting return to koi fish
art rapper rapping about art and rappers of the arts
art rap rapping about art and rappers of the arts, f*ck
a white man labadist created half of turtle island in spite of a jesuit
seems frenchmen can’t keep their hands out of that fur business
eaupulaca is my kitanitowit
i’ll call it a spaghetti monster and then proceed to murder it on the beat
crazy, i just don’t give a f*ck
i care about spoonerism when it’s necessary and super subliminal
my thoughts are often sub*liminal, to separate the term
i’ve never met a forward play that didn’t produce sperm
p.u. or p.s., but both can spell “p*ssy”
and you can self*rock your whole sh*t if you don’t believe me
or bequeath me, if i was a sphinx you’d sink me
if i was a pearl you’d mink me, these words are abstract thinking
[bridge:]
on the count of three, say “f*ck the police”
one, two, three, f*ck the police
oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, get him, get him man, oh get him!
oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, get him, get him, get him!

[verse 2: departure]
delivering like an open womb, i’ll stand and do it
and you don’t want a taste of that art rap music
peruse it, take a breath and then spew it or spit it
’cause art rappers stand on their money like a midget
expand the roots like a tree into your head
until the weed problem is cut from the dirt
there’s a scary story about a he*rs* that appears
on every sunday and until the sun descends from the earth
if georgie wants to rap, i’ll send a red balloon in exchange
to try anything in a small town is to be hanged
and without evidence, you can’t make the claim
that art rap is just another p*wn in the game
i have a specific pen to write my additional parentheses
and an extra tissue for what my mucus pretends to be
my own worst enemy, you’re too weird to be a friend to me
the odd junior with one too many freshmen on my sleeve
i return to my echo chamber with a gift
if you’re not sure where you wanna go, pretend to take a p*ss
because all of us going to some place is only a myth
and death is the only way you finish learning to live
[outro:]
now listen!
that’s called motherf*cking bars
you don’t know nothing about that
on the count of three, say “f*ck the po*”

- departure rap lyrics

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