the might's been tactful, from fighting into writing an act so mangled in doubt... the very angle it sprouts from? Pulls you out of your Kangaroo pouch.

The coming man... golden gloves, every punch serving under hand...
the history of the logic dumb down to crumbled land...
But intelligence varies on a variable scale, that lyrics detail
But it's all Apples & Oranges, with the verity here...
You ain't hearing me clear? A skill that has power of closure...
Secluded to his rounds, he'll show you the sound to oppose your...
tied in view, aligned with the movement, slightly a Jackal...
But still a Mac on a global scale, running the gist of it, like it's an Apple...
the might's been tactful, from fighting into writing an act
so mangled in doubt... the very angle it sprouts from?
Pulls you out of your Kangaroo pouch.
The logic is definite, he mangles the route
of opposition, it's dangling now... no wonder that feeling's been hanging around...
They say Evil shit's what they're speaking with.
These dumb cunts.... Food for Thought? They do nothing, butt Munch - on some Beavis shit.
Waiting to be a Millionaire, on some Regis shit...
It's all a roll, till you see the flick... on the Screen, minus the Theater shit...
Word...but with this keying shit?
My frees are slick, Venus mixed with a hybrid of skill - Toyota Prius shit...
But they know I'm evolved with the flow of it all, killing Semantics
Throw me the ball, and I'll Homer it off of your Flanders "Diddly"-antics!