Manchild

[Rainman] The new face of things, I've faced the winds And never backed an inch, past the brink First to step, last to blink Remind myself that I have to think Fuck it, pass the drink The mic, the track, take a sip and I might relax Or I might attack, and snipe from the stage from the front to back To the bar and doorman who cards your ass To the cars that pass My sound cuts through like shards of glass Evolved like man from all fours to master the land And I've taken it this far so I'm hard to pass Win, lose or draw, I paint a picture with the pen or the sword Still hell bent on ending the war through the use of acoustics, stupid This is, more than music, And I choose to do it Cause if I don't then I'm just gonna lose it [Chee Malabar] I'm America's worst nightmare I'm young, brown and look Middle Eastern, gyeah Got a sweatshop work ethic, to stitch my experience Into the American fabric, mixed and matched with Loose threads from folks' clothes off the Middle Passage To yarns spun into multicultural quilts by the colonial masters I weave it together using strands of language To patchwork the damage, and recapture the magic Tragic bastard, seems my pens only moved by spirits of anguish Who vanished, deep inside pockets of panic Articulate their anger, strangle words in my head Till it chokes my thoughts and a new world is bled Nouveau American, son, I'm highly re-imagined Splashing snapshots of tirades, montage style in Spike Lee fashion Through panoramic rapping [Chorus] X 2 Manchild lost in the wilderness that's America Can't hide once you in the eyes of hysteria Damn why they think you don't represent America Manchild, smile and stare back at hysteria [Rainman] I'm a hundred story high-rise, fly by, post 911 Just to keep you on your toes My prose so passionate, precious like the contents of a bassinet Past blasphemous, and overly righteous just to keep myself balanced yet Mysterious, an enigma wrapped in a beat, cocooned Communicating through rap speak Following the trails of Black feet when I blast these Bastardized linguistics And "speak-a-Engrish" Better than blokes with bad teeth overlooking the Thames and Queen The candid being, an alleged banana Who transforms to a beast like Eric Bana When I bring this and fling this And don't give a damn thing where it hit Pull strings like Mingus, this Cunning linguist tackles foes with prose And exposes society's holes and closes faster Than Brian Urlacher after a quarterback I'm not a rapper, a word master Fly as a bird, word And I'll bird crap your whole dome When I spit shit through your mobile phones, homes [Chee Malabar] I read brown's the new black, thanks to henna and bhangra Shit, I'm thinking lock-up in a Guantanomo slammer Geronimo Pratt style, panther type stances To keep raisin' questions till they can't suppress the answers Camphor based prose, C10-H16-0 flow I brandish the stress my pops' handsome face shows Homes I don't dance for dough or pamper hoes, case closed No rest haven, I'm Wes Craven when they bring the breaks in Murderous Raven, staving off your blocks' onslaught Playa, break down lines like Ray Lewis and make music That's makes Buddhists embrace Uzi's And let the spark from their shot light the darkest region in your heart Avant-garde no, Malabar got carte blanche though Taking out the trash in any rap scrap yard so Newsflash douche-bag, move past these raps here You're pussy talk, I'm scalpel sharp, come get your pap smear [Chorus] X 2 Manchild lost in the wilderness that's America Can't hide once you in the eyes of hysteria Damn why they think you don't represent America Manchild, smile and stare back at hysteria