El-P

One two
Get behind the walls of new Roma, wanna buy the farm
But the land's not yours to own?
Who owns Police? Who holds floor grease on a sandy beach?
Blood beach
Dance with a man he starts clutching, he ugly
Punks hung halo teach
Hugged by the math with the cable reach
A hundred and sixty-six channels lit
To train that animal shit
Where the mind's eye redefined
Where's God?
Buy a car, Kick tires
Back in Eighty-Six I lived
With a four-course artistry
Metal ones took turns showin' off colors and shit
Like I invaded the mating dance ritual
Criminal now
Wild things defined beautiful under my power
El Producto flash-fest-iss
Motherfuckers be like, Ow, why haven't we left yet
Blithering sideway twang, the youth and brain management troupe
The man is like BOOOP
You can't touch the Krush Groove
I live by the lunch table
Touched fables
Ducked labels
Lookout for the one he'd abide with the terrible stables
Signed to Rawkus
I'd rather be mouth fucked by Nazis unconscious
Callin' all bomb threats
Radio re-activated, caress
Under hella-ified missle defense
Fenced in, better blame it on fame shit and grin
Walk with a bag full of kittens
Take it to the river and throw yourself in
In about four seconds the ether will begin to leak
Who wanna hold hands with this sicko malnutritionist
Soaked in newspeak?
Dissolve into the syncopated fragments of vinyl
splashed on loose leaf