Brown Truck

[Verse: Buck 65] I take a bite outta' Maryanna's cookie and Christine's apple And write graffiti on the ceilin' of the Sistine Chapel and No, I'm not jokin' 'bout drinkin' coffee and pot-smokin' Many minds try to take the weight off me and die broken But I remain soft-spoken, humble yet cocky If that makes any sense, and I Mumble like Rocky Balboa What's up to my good pals Noah [Rock?] [Donna?], [Brian?], Tyrone, and [?] Oh yeah, some of the other names ain't good to mention Because alotta folks don't know the true meanin' of friendship, and I Won't let a drum machine come between me and myself I can't be bothered with "cosmo-politics." Wolves ran after us, but they couldn't catch us Scared because we strike anywhere like wooden matches First part finally and second part initial Now what you call "official art," I call "artificial." Who would be fool enough to think He or she wasn't cool enough to smell the flowers, listen to the bees buzzin' I tell my little sister shut her eyes And think about the butterflies And don't say bad words or utter lies. It's a Classic case of abusin' the telephone device and Not bein' able to take my own advice Oh well, whatch' you gonna' do? Should this spacious interior Be home to goodness gracious? I'd like to think so And I'd like to live long So hold the cold hand of the old man and give strong Positive shouts out to the inner core of beauty At every step along the way on your tour of duty Whatever that is, and keep your mind open Keep your ears open, and keep your eyes wide open Keep guessin' [Outro]