Busdriver - Map Your Psyche lyrics

Busdriver: I did that record before you And sure of course it was a tour de force Now you can afford a Porsche Go to the Source awards Get some tour support Do all sorts of warped things Get a smorgasbord With a horde of who*es Snort some more Leave a horrid corpse You're so corporate endorsed that when I record a chorus You said you co-wrote the grand corpus With no ifs, ands, or buts To listen to derivative works of this art-f*g I need to be in arms reach of a barf bag Using a bland sci-fi lab kit No fan's hands will go sky-high for that sh** It's too anti-climactic I'll put my bad reviews on your happy shoes Abstract Rude: Derivative of creative initiative Uninhibited in no particular fashion Indicative of an atypical mic-smashing Considered the title cla** of the fiercest survivalist Paralyzing psychoan*lyst Magnetizing soul catalyst Out of a cocoon A platoon would form and how did it happen Sprouting like alfalfa poison mushrooms out of the gra** Boys to men of this vast network of allies That were sent to the rally point for the joint venture Henchmen with a long-standing friendship Based on both surviving a lynching From those striving against them Rise to any length Spread through every width, area, and circumference It's a heavy load to lift but I was never known to quit nothing I use a dolly, pulley, lever, conveyer belt On the a**embly line where all of the steel melts I weld them a chopper Tap on a chakra to get 'em back in order And mail them a document to tell 'em retreat back over the border for his aura's sake To make more, innovate, and record a great album For our styling cipher out for the Driver I'm a clocker As much of an actor as Mekhi Phifer's a rhymer Busdriver and Abstract Rude: We've mapped your psyche We know what you do before you do Packaged it nicely and sold it to who feeds off the style Ellay Khule: You couldn't break my chops with an axe Take you time, make it fat, talking sh**, take it back Mad when you kick that crap Weak wack raps, where the real writers at? Over here, over there, everywhere that I peep Follow the elite, every style that I freak Beat a n***a down when I bound to a beat Microphone's parts what they found in the street Pick 'em up, dust, kick it up, time to rip it up Having fun with my tongue, when I'm done, give it up Time to demonstrate how I penetrate Hot incinerate, biting like a dinner date It's a twist that I missed, what part of the game is this? Where the losers go and the winners wait To take the beginner's place, keep my face placed on how to win the race If they'd run, I would never chase Hit 'em with the boom because they set up base This ain't Texas but this the west's Chainsaw Leather Face Keep the golden mic in a leather case When it's battle time, I'm a set a pace Every line that you find, already been mine When you rhyme, man, what a waste You would think I'd busted a nut in every hip-hop s*ut because there's too many Mini-Me's And some of y'all cats is finicky So y'all quickly change to enemies Blowing up in the industry so they remember me in their memory for original chops So you better give spiritual props to your lyrical pops Speed seeds, I delivered a flock Busdriver, Ellay Khule, and Ab Rude A few Goodlife emcees on the prowl They get beat up every time they want to eat up and try to feed up on my style