Dead Pan

This be the dawning of the age of dead water Station every B-boy fragment Somebody live enough to bust through the belly Put a fist up This is a right-now generation murdered by the fanbase This is adored by the writers Dead water with a still-force activated No, I'm not feeling alright Formed by the village of badges and bad karma Punched by the stagnant waters Leaked through the fickle whack But by the window sill's three nickles in a piggy bank Honor with a hint of funny stomach from the hunger pains Splashed automatic B-boy with big visions In a matchbox apartment, adjacent a crooked starship Spoon fed a nation in million's the only remedy Nine deadly planets with a bullet-riding centerpiece Take me through the gates (though the gates) I'll find the stink of burning Find the hottest slacker in a visionary costume Con-artist, kamikaze conduct Gone for a second 'til divinity whored herself to disaster I recognize the takers by the mechanical stagger As opposed to the skip of big-brother badge slasher Theologies who seem to keep the jukies caffeinated Like a Mad Hatter had to sleep now, ask after Calibrate the happy-scale, weigh me soaking wet With a mouth full of dead ideas and see if it tips zero Stripped ego, tall stories of brawl glory I'll be God while you're still living life on a full 40 Or maybe I'll be grimacing, homes. Poor, broke and lonely Hidden by my billygoat beard and cardboard monstrosity (cardboard monstrosity) I drink a bad glass of gumption (Nah) Not bad meaning bad, but bad meaning disgusting Wild child, activator, activate, sludging up the dungeon for an accolade And while one documented wild murder Flamed through the city with a wild merger Woke up, and a wild-style burner! Space-case, boombox, hate tapes, no lemonade breaks Sweat and no cheddar in Labor Days Right now, I'm here to break a part a Bic's piston Plus my straight and narrow's got more curves than a Russ Meyer vixen (Wow) Spitting sob stories to confront my thick addictions (Ha) I'm the dirty basin with the graves of Salem witches (Ahh) Driving my stake through the face of painstaking business Checkmate Wanna scream misery? Better breath-take Out of sleep, lifted off the botany Little Jackie paper and a magic dragon sack of dirty shrubbery I be the ugliest version of paranoia Kingpin set in motion by the secondhand pressure Some get excited when the sun folds under Some get excited when the summer hits the pavement Some get excited when the bullets hit bones, but I'm board I'll escape through the train yard and sleep 'til it's broken (Same old) 30x This be the settling A dead of warm water The mobile b-boy function Somebody mad enough to cut apart the curtain Put a fist up This is the dagger in the 88 magnificent memorial This is the heater to a movement Dead water when a broke vision's got sparks No I'm not feeling alright This be the windshear dodgin dead water A solitary b-boy wonder Somebody fresh enough to reinvent the court and put a fist up This is the chalky outline around a classic break-beat This is an agitated moment Dead water with a burnt reason breaten ugly No I'm not feeling alright