lirik lagu satellite high - doctors hate him!
[intro: creepy guy on public transit]
so… he took some heroin… (unintelligible)…
on his arm… and it just died…
it just died. no cure… you can’t… it died
there’s no circulation
and it died so far
that they had to cut it off
he would’ve got gangrene…
so, you know, it’s like… you ain’t got a choice
it’s like, “you wanna die?
or you want me to cut your arm off?”…
(unintelligible)…
actually, you ain’t got a choice
they give you a shot, and cut it off
you don’t like it when you wake up, k!ll yourself
[verse 1]
satellite silverback, hairy gorilla of rap
i’m all business up front, but a k!ller in back
when i’m popping, keep them hopping like a mullet, in fact
put out my hand, then i’m bringing it back (too slow!)
up top, in the middle, down low
high-fives flying, never make a sound though
ghost-clapping, when i’m rapping, keep the flame smoke-stacking
just a crack and everybody in your town go “daaaaaamn”
come around, talking ’bout you go ham
but i’m steady slicing into the beef
freeze ready, throwing ice and then i shatter ’em, chief
vent your skull from the unrelenting pressure; grey-matter relief
trephination rap, i’m pentecostal
snake-charming, appalachian medicine awful
cold eye, stack chips — tending a brothel
got them moving back and forth the way a senator waffles
[hook]
said you want to die? want to cut your arm off?
said you want to fly? want to let a f-cking bomb off?
no telling, i take an auger to the dome
slice, slice, chop, chop – this is surgery at home
[verse 2]
sanitation engineer, the way i’m cleaning up sh-t
said you better watch those cats that you’re meeting up with
think you’re all michael knights, but they’re scheming on kitt
trying to wire the ignition cuz the key, it don’t fit
and they’re needing that sh-t, i’m blocking the thirsty
got them all corralled up in an alley – kirstey
in your comments, i am copping a firstie
stalking fat beats like i’m rocking with percee (get it?)
murk me? never. style too clever
that snap music’s good, but the yellow bus better
little nerds, wire-frames in your canibus sweater
half–ssed ninja turtles, son, you’ll never catch shredder
got two brains, i’m krang
ya’ll f-cking clowns are lambchop, man, i’m fang
i keep it all composed, but you pale in rage
mick foley – got you rolling on the mat before i scale the cage
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