Angular

[Priest] Unto itself it's incomplete But made complete by my connection The effervescent vestige of descimation The decimal point seven thousandth of a percent Possession with the intent to make bent I break bread with tack heads In flight unflawed, with sight unseen Strangely configured with fire inside of a womb the size of an entire planet Born of fire [Beans] I'm so fly You had no choice Love my torture Tailor denture fender Mauled by fur coats Unraveled like fabric Celebrate your failure When the records spins your chance of wins is thin as threads In the grip of a cripple Not identified in a line up, no similarity or purpose So save breath for retreat, shriek like a greiving widow Cause life hates you, just like I do You boot licking maggot Sound like a frog with emphysema [Priest] I say this with emphasis Somebody play this, repeat this Somebody said I was a phony The first trick from a one trick pony A pretender to the throne, seat at the feet of the one before me I changed the story Obscured the space in which you occupy I rock with my nuts exposed for you to swing on Klingons kling on Bring on a cape and a scepter Connect the cathodes My pathos goes back to crayons On the track I extol Expose political figures with pictures and garters And rock harder than your hardest track spitter [Beans] I love winter for all of the women i've kept warm Script gigolo systemic cataclysm Applies pressure at disposal I picture dimension dismantle, if you try you will fail None to shackle my anger On the way up you on the way out, residence in text intense interpretation Revert like an echo The merit of your opinions must taken with a total grain of nothing [M. Sayyid] Hey yo my first step started with a sprint Then grew to a man spitting on tracks with a bottle and a limp A wrinkled map A screaming throttle and two cent to dent amps and Fuck you cats up like a nymph No sentiment is evident my embitterment and The many metaphors I cash in Collapse mc's to the blacktop in the backspins with no shirt while I am maxing Slapping asses in aspen In a bubble bath laughing Your style: no dough like no ID at check cashing Leaving it alone Leave it to the man who's more bones And walk the street with no chrome I'm just like a phone out of zones before the stones And the bodies that got blown for loans and shown with a poem And if you're quiet, in the wind you can hear the moans If you're quiet, in the wind you can hear the moans...