ACID WESTERN

The hippie comes from the age of Nixon When beatniks all died from their vast addictions And though he could never write proper fiction He sure could lie about his condition I studied with hippies in Boulder, CO Where they teach everyone that it's cool to be poor The grads look like Manson when they're out the door It's no wonder they kill on the Wall Street floor Now I ain't no hippie but I confess That I puff the sess to relieve my stress When I'm in Chinatown on the pen All the locals think that I'm one of them I want a stronger molecule I want to have fun, want to act a fool Now I'm the bum that annoys the bus Because I've gotten bored of my cannabis Cause I'm listening to Happy End Their blues and country record While tripping on the 49 I call it Acid Western The letters look like numbers I've forgotten how to read There's something in my third eye Someone help me find the street Cause I'm listening to Happy End Their blues and country record While tripping on the 49 I call it Acid Western I haven't felt no oneness No religious ecstasy But I hear somebody talking Through the fillings in my teeth All these stupid hippies in Wicker Park Like to act real bad until it gets too dark I might hit a lick on these fucking narcs And go down Indiana in daddy's car Buy a big pointy missile somewhere in Gary And fill up the Schaumburg cemetery Even in Woodlawn they'd see the spark Now the Star Taco is just a skidmark Hip hop's answer to Dennis Hopper Must've squeezed too hard when I used the dropper Cause my spit looking like Kodachrome You'll need a popper way things are going Cause I'm coming in with some bars that's harder Than elbows on retro rotation starters I bogart the mic, man I ain't gonna share it Tongue get the paper Call me Syd Barrett Cause I'm listening to Happy End Their blues and country record While tripping on the 49 I call it Acid Western The letters look like numbers I've forgotten how to read There's something in my third eye Someone help me find the street Cause I'm listening to Happy End Their blues and country record While tripping on the 49 I call it Acid Western I haven't felt no oneness No religious ecstasy But I hear somebody talking Through the fillings in my teeth