[Intro: Safari Al] You know it's something low, low, low You know it's something low [Verse 1: milo] If you can't name the ache, I guess I don't believe you How it's my fault if your soul is see through? How it's your fault if your soul is see through? Why do I have all these organs? Why am I so high in Oregon? A conception of inside seems more important What's necessary or sufficient about gorgeous? The superstition implores us It's not enough to write a rap song I should hire a choir of black moms To reprimand me if I act wrong I nominate you to hide all my evil parts Don't go snooping around the lots where city people park That's a clumsy factoid from a bummy black boy If a dummy act coy he could stumble to his d**h [Verse 2: Safari Al] A patch of dust in the sandlot Under a sun spot Bumping, sicking, clocking under a sun spot Grunting, kicking, backing Cost to find the finer point in principle A coal miner, total minor Major bummer, majoring in plumber Just a coal miner, plumb liner Of rented property, rented property It becomes yours