Worlds To Run

[Verse 1: milo] This slack-jaw mealy-mouth I mumble when I'm 'round the house I'm trying not to do no chores today Crying in my underwear I lost my sense of wonder, there No, I'm not Milan Kundera Though this lightness is unbearable The feeling is indelible I'm wishing I could teleport somewhere Transmolecularize through the secular eye I remember when Vegeta stomped Bardock's neck in Two prayer hands to the heavens Good Lord, bless Him I was a broke slob watching Ghost Dog Writing Post Hoc If I could muster just one good throat chop And honor my shidoshi Because 'dim mak' means 'death touch' I been Spock, I been clutch In thin socks, I'm butthurt Impervious pervert with niggerish fervour Crashing Linux server Who didn't to change his laundry over Who needs to buy toilet paper Indie rapper, sorta faker 'Cuz I couldn't afford a mortgage or a Studebaker 'Cuz I couldn't afford a mortgage or a Studebaker [Chorus: Anderson.paak] When you're deep in the raw Everybody wants to get a piece of your heart There's only so much truth you can keep in your bowl Speak your piece, but words are too harsh [Busdriver:] Overspoke my piece Alone in the streets When you're deep in the raw There's only so much truth you can keep in your jaw I can run the world from my mama's house [x3] I can run the world When you deep in the raw There's only so much truth you can keep in your jaw 'Till it bleeds through the wall [Verse 2: Busdriver] Every song responds to a threat Every laundered dollar's wet But if a mom’s like a song torn breath ? But as long as I can ponder the depth And the king sorta stinks of lunacy I roam the rinks in sync with the jinx that are having me sink the moon and the sea ? Bankers clink drinks of the uplinked to the sphinx's coonery I'm on the brink, I could fill my sink with the king's jewelry Yeah, who is he? Driver. I am from a dead world Sole practitioner of his customs and know the RPM of your head twirl Driver owe this to my daughter Old enough to vote, rap songs Blowing up on the close loyal subjects Rolling up that smoke cuz I dictate terms, [?] stomp perch Yeah. And Leimert Park is Winterfell [?] rumors I learn to Splinter Cell pitches sale from Mike's Citadel Exact an explicit Hell Empty the fire and sway My music on Pirate's Bay as my elusive alliances fray I collude with a silent clay and infuse a vibrant day With a soothing eye of decay -- putting food on the dining tray Yeah, I can do this my way [Chorus]