lirik lagu electronic jack – introvert freestyle
[intro: sample from blood and bones]
i am the punishment of god…if you had not committed great sins, god would not have sent a punishment like me upon you. (genghis khan)
[verse one: electronic jack]
just got back from running a train on a white groupie broad. no, literally. i hijacked it, tied her up and laid her on the track. watched her squirm a bit before the tires crushed her back. upper-cl-ss, eating supper fast, soup, full of thumbtacks. i’m not misogynistic, love is just not optimistic. i’m positive it’s not the pitching of my tent…but if you just wanted d-ck…you wouldn’t be robin. even though i’m heart throbbin’, i ain’t a sucka for love. i’m chow yun with the doves. never have to reload. i’m pr-ne to survive the cold when i’m packing heat. not even at-my peak-but-i-pique-the-interest of those who peek. “do you even lift?” yes, i do. don’t you see my physique
don’t complain i got ego when you suck more than mosquito. i’ll stab you in the eye with a katana blade through a peephole. so people..i’m peaceful, i just don’t like the police though. profiling me for my skin tone. i’ll make..red-out-a-blue. drinkin’ kool-aid, playing russian roulette, i must’ve missed the parade-if i’m p-ssed don’t-try-persuade-beside–me-is-a-hand-grenade. i’m paid to parley in these traits when i’m bathing in the tears of my enemies. genghis please
come at me
i have a dissociative disorder. i’m split between a corridor. p-ssin’ on your mother’s floor, cutting up with leo’s sword..
and bored..(of what?)..of being a bus driver. takin’ mc’s to school. servin’ ’em cyanide & booze. while eating mike,-and ike is beating on his baby mama….dragging her by the hair, upstairs to incite terror worse than the nanking m-ssacre….a cannibalistic pastor who dives head first–like a bull to a matador….
when i say clap, that does not mean i’m giving orders to applause. when she claps, that means i’m going b-lls deep in them cheeks. i have a receipt for the weed that i sneaked into the city. not nose candy, but therapeutic for your ears. just call me your pusher man. distracting you from the bland, generic tunes. my group are buncha parademons out of a boom tube. go ahead and shoot first. right in the head! i’m bullet proof. i’ll smack you with my han solo. i put a gun to toto, and tell him, take me to the wizard of oz. which witch broad is going to swallow my eggnog
immaturity at it’s finest, your highness. the suicide poet don’t mind it. in fact, electronic jack’s toy soldiers are winded. line ’em up like a stack of dominoes. p-ss on the const-tution and burn the magna carta ho’
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