Pergamum

I woke up thinkin' about this planet being wiped away
 Well, not, maybe not the planet 'cause, 'cause the Earth takes care of itself
 But, but us
 And then, uh, I turn on the radio and heard-heard Russia was finna send rockets into space to blow up satellites, knock out power grids here
 I suck my teeth and kiss bizz
 Seven horrors of Babylon
 Scratched in the palm of a vagabond
 Matter and form
 I'm at where I belong
 Dedicated to babies who came feet first
 James Byrd, drag along
 Back 'em off, blasted arm
 Shrapnel gloss glass and steel thunderclap
 Run it back Gotham, necessary toxins
 Block bent, jot what I feel is my heart spin
 Commonwealth, living wages, human income
 Whichever way the wind front
 Earth either in a pair of velvet creepers
 Like body Dreamwork
 Spirit weaver do your research
 Every bar is a keyword, not ether
 Kill up the rework
 Loop back and reverse, until new unexpected patterns
 With the intention to destabilize language to really get at the core of what's happening
 Tools of war plus sacrament
 Take, eat this my body
 Take, eat this my body
 At the mercy of forces which can be explained, extrapolated and feared
 No, we don't say that word around here
 No, we don't say that word around here
 Mark on the door is home spared
 Poems, prayers
 Was it a hoax or did they really disappear?
 My folks been more than aware
 Year, after year, after year, after year, after year, after year, after year
 We all thrive out here, player
 Player
 ♪
 Well said, hear, hear
 Well, I for one
 A long and storied history of fake thuggin'
 Wasn't around for boss mean muggin'
 2Pac went to art school, but look at the grave they dug him
 And then you shoot your cousin
 Six feet deep fo you realize you bug it
 Rats with the cat drug in, beloved
 On the headstone, but she at home dug in
 Stock bones piled in the pot, bubblin'
 Effort'ly dance from swings of the truncheon
 She said, "I'm not fittin' to have a drug dealer for a husband
 End of discussion," and it was
 Regardless, the racket, Slazenger
 Darkens the fifty-seven passenger
 Dungeons walls was his calendar
 Lucy in the sky was the Challenger
 A balance in all things, yes
 Still half surprised half impressed at who still cashin' cheques
 Like who the fuck still smokin' shwag sess
 Smilin' in hospital beds wearin' a vest, nigga sick
 They really want it to be '96
 Talk about trauma
 And if that blew up, they come to your talk with the lamas