Frame and Fork

Cracked foundations leaking It’s a fact that attracts rats Mould grows, and that shit is whack ‘Cause, like, I need a space that’s calm, ethereal And chilled for me to write But we need the raw materials to build And the right mixture of light fixtures And extra large windows of opportunity Where those of our community come to pay a visit You treat ‘em properly While you break down the science on the property value The building’s sick and dying with a first-class infection If the health board people come, we’ll never pass inspection The vinyl sides been neglected Mouldin’ off, broken Let me do the talking ‘Cause I’m tall and soft spoken, and Buck 65 Interior design should be simple and elegant Superior to minds of the criminal element Unless you include graff-writers But still, guys are markin’ places for parkin’ spaces Before the floor is reinforced Not even to mention, boards are hammered in wrong And with this tangle of extension cords The next thing you know the roof will be on fire Killed in the smoke and the flames That engulf the entire buildin’ The carpenter soul that wants the ability To stay, must first live up to the responsibility Of keepin’ the premises safe from any nemesis or foreigner That would only paint himself into a corner