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mc showcase 2011 - the palmer squares lyrics

[verse 1: terminal knowledge]
i’ve been the dapper don since i put my pampers on
vagabond, splashin’ ether on a fabric cloth
zoned out, foam at the mouth like a rabid dog
i bury bodies in my lawn at the crack of dawn
the rock up my nostril caked
i travel into outer-sp-ce just to drop at a colossal rate
jostling, lost i’ve gone astray
term k refuse to walk away until the profit’s made
not a prophet, i’m the second coming
next to nothing in my pocket, i’m just pressing b-ttons
the commander, general, bag full of chemicals
pusher man distributin’ scag cut with fentanyl
xanax, demerol, tablets of methadone
lab rat packaging anthrax in envelopes
matches and tennis b-lls wrapped with electrical
blasted i’m trashed with my hands on my genitals
bothered and hot, gon’ and squandered the pot
a downtrodden prima donna on a bottomless drop
i personify the clowns and the clods
gettin’ bombed with the squad
honest to god like islamic jihad
yo, the kids need violence, to live means dyin’
open up the gates sound the blitzkrieg sirens
the ruthless, baby face spittin’ ’til he’s toothless
introducin’ 2-bit rappers to my boot tip
a fortified design of the mortified and blind
i ain’t suicidal, it just sorta crossed my mind
days draped in misery, sp-ce wasted blithering
hate shapes the industry while slaves pay the bigger fee
maintain the greed, what a wave made in history
generation rage and we placate it pitifully
palmer squares be that devilish enemy
reach for the mic and leave with severed extremities
an excellent remedy for pestilent energy
festering chemically, dextroamphetamines
mental telepathy, magic mind
i was sent to collectively leave my battle cry echoing endlessly
no sight, just panoramic glimpses of abandoned ships
living life sans companionship
i’m accurate, term k g-ssin’ motherf-ckers like a flatulence
haters need to oil up the catchers’ mitt, it’s laughable
playin’ whac-a-mole the way i’m crackin’ skulls
little ones with ductape on the mandible
seein’ red, my whole life’s a bull-fight
in full flight i’ll pierce your skin with a road spike
i’ll pierce your skin with a dull knife
i’m sharp in the mind, poison ivs and artery lines
raw spit from a mouth full of tartar and grime
right now i’m gon’ p-ss it to my partner in crime

[verse 2: ac-mental]
yo, these dapper literati
fill palaver with their folly
other hobbies include packin’ cadavers in jalopys
we dippin’ mali as we’re practicing karate
while y’all rappers in the closet like that f-ggot liberace
yo the show’s over, third act, double encore
wrath of a god, wingspan of a condor
from the helipad to the ground floor
it’s going down, you should follow term and ac if you want more
(you want more?) want more?
i thought you might, the andy kaufman type cat
with a splash of walter white
i k!ll verses, spit heat ’til the milk curdles
makin’ sow ears into silk purses
curses! i’m certain that nothing can phase me
ac-mental leave your squad runnin’ for safety
yo i’m like, john w gacy
got a club in the bas-m-nt where the bodies rot under a blanket
see i’m f-ckin’ insane kid, h-llbent
angry as twelve men
spot me at the c-mberland station on the l train
poppin’ adapin to fight depression
peerin’ in the mirror shoutin’, “candyman” in my reflection
to send a vital message out to all of y’all h0m- sapiens
waterfalls, don’t go chasin’ ’em
stick to your rivers and lakes
and don’t swim in the first place
just make a death wish on your birthday
cause you’ll find my name farthest up the roster
yo the parlance i be droppin’ hot enough to strip the varnish off a locker
we harness all the power imaginable and tower
you amateur flow impostor starring opposite madeleine stowe
two perilous dudes kickin’ true narratives
shut you down, lou gehrig sh-t, whoop there it is!
my crew rarely gets enough exposure
too much time spent loungin’ in the lion’s den puffin’ dosha
marijuana sharecroppin’
nature boy, make some noise before i run up and flair chop ya
smack like dab in the middle
yo we jumpin’ over the moon without the cat or the fiddle
i twist the gr-ss and flip the cap on my zippo
then i elevate the flame to a fat cigarillo
this sh-t is nothing more than some raps that i scribble
cause i found my true colors in a bag full of skittles
you won’t see me drive past in a foreign car
you’ll see me workin’ hard tryin’ to find some r&r
but still i’m ill with a capital ‘i’
keepin’ it live like sat-rday night, grabbin’ the mic
cause i’d rather be livin’ in darkness than
dyin’ in the light, overexposed tryin’ to win the fight
so i tie my sh-t up tight and hop back into the shade
where you can rest -ssured another track is gettin’ made
like, hey yo wax, you wanna play?
cause guess what dog, i’m p-ssin’ it your way
palm squares, chi city

- the palmer squares lyrics

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