the rapture - gadzooks lyrics
i’m not a rapper, i’m the rapture
so little time so many souls to capture
matter fact you’re free to call me master
rasta ayahuasca ya basta velociraptor
hydroplane on that ibogaine
came oh so close to an overdose, i guess i’ll try again
doing acrobatics off of acid tablets
and then after that it’s back for putting the horses out to pasture
screws tight in spite of my family
still the biggest lunatic this side of insanity
no, how can it be?
oh the humanity
don’t holler if you hear me, holler if you’re understanding me
that’ll be the day a single f-ck’s given
external combustion engine with suspension
i am hunter s. thompson with a tourettes problem
sp-ce kush got me feeling like i’m buzz aldrin
i think i’m his holiness on opiates
i am the dalai lama on that molly water
jolly roger cyber pirate, highest flying fighter pilot
team zissou life aquatic
coughing on hydroponic
(hook)
coming to you live from the other side
posthumous hollow points
posthumous hollow points
antihero anarchist p-ssing off evangelists
sad sack of sacrilege g-ssed on my own flatulence
coming to you live from the other side
posthumous hollow points
posthumous hollow points
dead men do tell tales, i’m filling pages up
ghost stories disturbing the peace keeping the neighbors up
i’m not a rapper, i’m the after life of the after life
i am caster troy facing off with achilles
i’m archimedes with a rare view
bear jew – inglorious b-st-rds
with a grinch-like disdain for whoville
marketing the matrix selling red paint for blue pills
but not for me though, so keep yo’ placebo
i’m in dimension x blowing trees with nutrinos
even my alter ego has an alter
it’s all cerebral
i’m far too evil to call a hero
anunnaki-bred, natty dread on my karate kid
sipping sake with miyagi watching all the malarky spread
well ain’t that a syringe in the sandbox
i leave my john hanc-ck on broken pad locks
i feel like alan watts after valium drops
i am to hip hop what tesla was to kilowatts
i might be ice-t when he was k!llin’ cops
and she’s the black dahlia when on that salvia
and i’m kinda sure i got the spinal cord of guy debord
an outer limits chemist that just might restore the dinosaurs
from padded cells of psycho wards
i implore cyborgs to dine on psilocybin spores
and pry the doors of perception wider prior to tribal war
either/or supply the hordes
i don’t take kindly to zombies who’ve never f-cking died before
face down in the devil’s playground
which is idle time
tribal by design
soul-surfing on my vital signs
chasing iodine with saliva
i’m on that tenth level, third-eye, all one with g-ya kind of mind
and you’ll never find a finer line
than the one that separates thy and i
you’ll never find a finer line
than the one that separates thy and i
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