Lights, camera
The scene was a rage
Detected the misdirection
Them traps were a-maze-ing

As they presented them empty questions
Expecting them full sentence replies
And government mentions
Fuck that

Them mishaps
How his words never fit they ears
They always seem to be a mismatch
Tryin to lose em in the sentax

The odds stacked against them all
Got him feelin so mismatched
How they call in for the dispatch

Like bring in that back up
That one mind too tough
It needs to be latched up

Cook a batch up of that shit
That keep that crack cut
And fed it to them bitch niggas
Starvin and them sad muts

That's a must
Like a stroll or a strut
With the cane and a puff
Of the loosie, of the dutch
Ugh

A scary lot
From the cracks in the cinder blocks
Them autotrophs
And prokaryotes scare me not

What a backwards plot
Till they cut, to the act
For the backpack fulla crack

Packs as he pass that back
To the cash for that credit stack
And that cash back
Ugh

Where them defenses at?
The savemoney army
Strikin back on full attack