Chuck Ds

Curtis Jackson to Kurtis Vonnegut Paramedics' response to impairment born of intoxicants Curtis Jackson to Kurtis Vonnegut Paramedics' response to impairment born of intoxicants A lack of oxygen, huffin' smog through cartons of lozenges Fresh up off the mountain and slaloming toward apocalypse Move thick like a crew of Somali occupants Staring directly at you through looted sets of binoculars Keep ignoring it then be forced to acknowledge it Noddin' off to a shark with a jaw full of overconfidence, huh? Wooden Jesus piece and crosses tatted on the fingers Old Poor Righteous Teachers posters and low top Adidas It's nothin' casual about this underground completist Das EFX's "Hold It Down" a dozen times repeated Often blunted, bumper crops that burst his tortured lungs Sip of elixir set a fire to his spoken tongue He stunk of privilege, arrival of a fortuned son But what he wouldn't give or compromise to be the chosen one To have been born within a world from which you could evolve And to have seen a glimpse beyond these four polluted walls And to demand a man his concert proving you belong Bandying about a stack of dollars you've been groomed to flaunt? You wanna gamble with them bulls? Well, you can roll the dice We'll serve a matador his portion with a fork and knife Siphon off of skin and bones as if you hold the right? Believe me when I say that it appears you can't afford the price I want it I want it I want it I want it I want it I want it I want it