I sit around and burn some wrappers
By wrappers, I don't mean kid nappers
Or beaters, stealers, or gun clappers
I mean the sap or tree of laughter
The time draft plant, high sky raft ramp
And when I don't clamp the jay between my lips
My mind shifts and my rhymes are swift
I wake up without the spliff
And that's when I chase around kids dressed as a petrified knight
With knives and kite wires to slice and dice Tyler, and all his little friends, then tie em up over a camp fire
If you can't tell I'm erratic, let me hook up my amplifier and ignite 9 fireworks into the shirts of homeless clerks and watch them burn just because they don't work
People throw 'em pennies to make their day
I throw them grenades like a bouquet, ready? OK
You all better act like Birdman and make way! |