P.o.s. - Half-Cocked Concepts lyrics

First of all, guck Bush That's all, that's the end of it Second, give it up to R.S.E. for hookin' up a kid I got the two best, the newest plus the truest Doomtree, Rhymesayers Entertainment (you know the name) Rip the quality control from your burrows to your borders Droppin' hot emcee's off balconies like Tony Rocky Horror The, uh, the baby-danglin', words hanglin' Hottest masturbatin' off the back of the neck of my soldiers' rhyme and P.O., you know the dirty one disturbing categories The matador in black, k**in' bullsh** allegories Provide the hurt, these other beastly storing stories make em' Get Up Get Down Get Up And Get f**ed Up I spray terms like throw-ups, I'm 'bout to spit a feelin' 'Cause me and Turbo Nemesis are soon to be arthritic villains Still instillin' hatred, laced with manifesto modes And our backbeat's to beat your heartbeat off beat, let's go Excuse me Just turn it on, and leave it runnin' Macin', nothin' of gunnin' Nothin' linin' our pockets We frontin' like Cool Runnings Somethin' so simple sparkin' We wait, but nothin's comin' Chrome in our fingertips They eat sh**, like faulty plumbin' Just games for days, busy bees makin' our honey And skee ball tickets still on count, it's real money It's somethin' so ridiculous, funny, so f**in' sick of this Consistent lack of vision from children claimin' they listenin' Still I'm sittin' skits and laughin' while they all missin' this There's still songs about b**hes from 9/11 witnesses. (ha ha) So here I am in the Middle West The heartland ma'f**a, sippin' whole milk ma'f**a Our nights are colder right? Minnesota nights, but our frostbitten fists For the smile stings twice so um Fight or flight, who gives a damn anyways? So make a f**in' difference in these apathetic names (I tell 'em) Lean back, just relax, we tell 'em Get Up Get Down Get Up And Get f**ed Up We don't dance, we just pull up our pants, and then we Get Up Get Down Get Up And Get f**ed Up What, you want something like a cake? Want a Guinness or somethin'? Get Up Get Down Get Up And Get f**ed Up Somethin' so ridiculous, funny, so f**in' sick of this Consistent lack of vision from children claimin' they listenin' You look sick, homie eat a gun (I tell you (haha)) I'mma eat a gun I look tired, it's probably the insomnia I sleep like Tyler Durden Stickin' feathers in your a** does not make you a chicken Holla if you hit the bottom runnin' A fool among the scholars Bumpin' somethin' about clubs, bumps and hubs I got a message in a bottle, written in gas and oil Signed with a rag and a match, here catch Slap to rebel yell The rebels fell, embedded in brick Ain't no f**in' marble memorial For pissed-off kids waitin' for desperate shicks Like Bronson, ain't got enough to flip his face to vigilance again Once it has been, the fifth amends Barely our friends, who think about what's up with Jen & Ben Once it has been (I think we should put up in this-f** outta here!) Let's get out Lean back and relax, we tell 'em Get Up Get Down Get Up And Get f**ed Up Put the ma' f**in' Fresca down Get Up Get Down Get Up And Get f**ed Up Damnit with the blood Get Up Get Down Get Up And Get f**ed Up Somethin' so ridiculous, funny, so f**in' sick of this Consistent lack of vision from children claimin' they listenin' Goddman, Joe You like Fresca? You're fired You're fired too