Story Behind the Song
This is the story of how one skinny, white computer geek is posessed by the evil, yet truthful spirit of the Unaomber and is forced to tell it like it is.
Lyrics
Your style was quite uncomfortable when you sent it to greet me
at the airport, it gave me flowers and said it was please to meet me,
but it was clear from the start that it was there to befriend me,
because you had sensed the futility of verbally trying to end me.
My style tends to expand in such a way that it precedes me,
it goes out of its way to find a groove that really needs me,
and evaporates and concatenates anything that tries to bleed me,
and it kills all other styles and it brings them back to feed me.
My style is really dope and as such it is like medicine,
it complements my personality and is more gamey than venison,
which makes it hard to stomach until you've acquired taste
and then it makes you realize that your whole life has been a waste.
It turns happiness to sadness, makes you forget your glasses,
makes your girlfriend come over to my house when she should really be in classes.
My style is undeniable, infinitely friable,
tasty when it's broiled, when it's steamed it is quite tryable.
My style is also healthy, but not suited for the wealthy
because it uncovers the tax shelters that they thought were really stealthy.
My style makes lots of money, it loves its tea with honey,
but it doesn't like girls that get drunk, piss their pants and think it's funny.
My style has lots of gumption, its form follows its function,
it diverts attention and allows you to escape and meets you at the junction.
It's good for battling, just the same as for relaxing.
For communication, it's technically superior to e-mail or faxing.
It provides enough energy to light your city's streets
and it's higher in fat than any known form of meat.
It stores more energy than every battery on Earth
and when your wife was pregnant it even helped her give birth.
My style has high worth, meaning it is very valuable,
so much so that concrete figures are not even tallyable.
It's also very malleable, like metal when it's heated,
it's heavier than Uranium that's not fully depleted.
My style is not something that has an equivalence,
it's something that you simply have to go and experience.
My style is kinda naughty, at the same time it's kinda nice,
it's trying to overcome it's tendency toward vice.
When I start to flow, you best believe I am no thief,
when I die they'll auction off my notebooks and reprint them in gold leif,
distribute them in every language like that bible that you're reading,
except the words I write will have relevance and meaning.
Unlike those empty, sacred verses that you use to avoid thinking,
about all the fucked up things humanity's done without blinking,
like driving every animal straight to the ends of the Earth,
where they huddle together in fear, knowing that another birth,
of another stupid human is right around the corner,
and you know it wont be long ‘till they build a mall after clearing the fauna,
which would be the animals to which I previously referred,
but since you’re a stupid fucking human you probably haven’t heard
a single word I’ve had to say and that’s too bad cuz I’m trying to help,
keep humanity from drowning in its own shit like puppies in hell.
It’s the thing that I think that you need to understand,
that pollutes the mind of every single woman and man,
on this planet that is dying, I don’t see too many people crying,
but you’re leaders are lying if they tell you, you will not be dying,
when the atmosphere is heated, every species depleted,
every child is cheated when Mother Nature is defeated,
by industrial consumer society that does not care
if it gets too damned hot to survive anywhere,
but inside your air-conditioned atmosphere day and night,
pretty soon they’ll need to put air-condition in the Bill of Fucking Rights.
And given the way you act, yo, I think it is quite odd,
that any of you motherfuckers even use the word god,
but “Praise Allah” is what I believe you said,
when it’s obvious that the motherfucker’s dead.
You try to front like your some kind of misunderstood artistic genius,
but you’re just a lazy-ass pothead with a six and a half inch penis
and a permanent case of “I shoulda, I coulda, I woulda, if it weren’t for,
that person who did that thing that made me feel like such a whore,
that I found it impossible to live up to my own expectations of success,
for fear of only helping those who were here to fucking test,
the boundaries of what one man can do unto another,
Yo' you need to shut the fuck up and save that bullshit for your mother...
Eventually you'll have to stop and ask yourself the question,
is this the kind of rapper that's creating new inventions?
Or is he merely a convention of the rap industry,
just some fake-ass whiteboy that took the letter "D",
applied it o his name, in hopes of achieving fame,
but as it turns out, his lyrics are lame,
his style a carbon copy, his pronunciation sloppy,
with no insight or foresight to create new knowledge,
that is desperately needed by his fans who skipped college,
and never even factored knowledge into their plans,
who eat and shit and fuck humanity into a grand,
illusion of confusion where they are relegated to prayer,
instead of taking steps to preserve the ozone layer,
they can only hope and dream that things get better on their own,
no matter how they slice it, their aim is just to bone,
to perpetuate their genetic refuse, and the next thing you know five-billion babies on the loose.
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