And they say…
Opium to the ceiling
All for the love of plugs, squealing ‘ugh’, healing
No more Timberland turf
You’re too soft for this, award-winning awkwardness
You walking off into the office with
In the rims with friends and like state trials and Paypals
In nondescript homes in Arizona
In sub-divided neighbourhoods, with floors made of solid wood
In roofs of clay tiles sits a couple million dollars
Said I tried but the old me blew it
Exactly how you knew I’d do it
All my brothers, I would love to paint ’em Jewish
Reinfiltrate the movement and assassinate the music
Exaggerate the ass and face then masturbate to it
The constituency brilliant but the candidates are stupid
I’m too rude to ask for nudes
But way too ruthless not to pursue it…
(Maybe)
Maybe you feel me when I…
Feel me when I say (Feel me when I say)
Whatever don’t kill me
Gets me through the day (Gets me through the day)
Chorus to the (w) horses, made her body porous
Absorbing up the pork, made ’em enormous
Fear of rape, made ’em informant
Fully shroomed in the motel room waiting to torment
Never trust a dope fiend with your hopes and dreams
Let ’em play in museums with the dead bodies and broken things
What happens when the sugar barons meet the coca kings
And they beam it into space
Seem to be in place
At the parent teacher conference
With hallucinations screaming in her face
The cleaning lady crazy
She say she got a demon in the safe
But its eating through the back
And soon be leaving through the gates
The holla’er shouts, “Who’s bright enough to pay a toddler
That watch a ghoulish oxycontin gobbler on Hanukkah?”
Maybe a Phoenix-based multi-million dollar launderer
Who fucked the cartels so bad, she attended court on the monitor
(Maybe)
Maybe you feel me when I…
Feel me when I say (Feel me when I say)
Whatever don’t kill me
Gets me through the day (Gets me through the day)
Bad trippin’ through the tenderloin
Slimmer that a slot to enter coins to let a nigga join
A figure skater like Michelle Kwan
Aluminum illuminated to a hail bomb ice
Then hold onto it like the Elron device
Then pass the audition
To the poor hands sided in maelstrom’s position
Street sales in comparison pale to the Scottsdale bail bonds commission
It’s like trappin’ out the pawn shop
Gettin’ close to the magic like the wrappin’ on the wand box
Third layer from the wave
And grant absurd last prayers and first favours from the grave
To crack the pipes like icy nights and turn mayors into slaves
Politics bring fevers
To punish dealers
Adjudicate the Johnsons and stop the ring leaders
The Geese Howards and King Ghidorahs
Cook E in the family tree for steam fevers
(Maybe)
Maybe you feel me when I…
Feel me when I say (Feel me when I say)
Whatever don’t kill me
Gets me through the day (Gets me through the day)