Sage Francis - Conflict lyrics

I would rather be Who I'd rather be What I would rather be... I conflict with those who are tricked By the gimmick market and can't think with logic Logic! They're in the distance when I begin to pop lip (hip) Poppers asking why does this kid does talk sh** Just I'm never breaking even so I'm throwing art fit Sick of rappers saying "fresh!" But stink like armpit And couldn't test a single member that's within our clique I bring it to you right now, but you don't really want it Unwarranted, salsa make your heart skip If you rolled as much as you told you'd get carsick Accosted by pistol forty audience at your concert Sitting in the front row Getting wet by what they all spit I'll be standing in the back hitting you with a tall stick I could join your a** and still you're not slick When in over your fan base Make them say "aw sh**!" Right in your damn face Confidence: you lost it Now these super thuggy dungs say "Bring that hard sh**" In a conflict Simple simon Simon Says to sing the pop hit In a conflict Corny white boys just want jokes, this isn't a comic strip In a conflict Still I bring a conflict, that sting of conflict I'm in a conflict I'd rather be artistic Painting pictures with my words while freaking a topic Your broad strokes are filled with lead So what you're eating's toxic But this poison is self-destruction, you're feeling Stop it! Taking more than god's name in vain Making your beating heart quit Push you on the floor, then pull the carpet Out from under your feet, then watch you drop quick Flying through the airwaves, hit you with a dropkick On the WWF raw is war tip Run up in your crib and watch that horse strip Playing healthy mind games to keep her thoughts sick The plot is not the only thing that thickens in this p**n flick Once I'm done when her, you really think she wants your dick? That's not how I'd rather be This is not who I would rather be That's not how I'd rather be I am not lit Hitting on some club hopping bot chick Start to flit, name-dropping on a superstar trip Only for the sake of seeing her jump on the jock quick Simply get that co*k trick spit what your mom drink Now, back to these ba*tards who claim they got grip Take the finger off your safety and let the Glock click Aim for the back of my fist, make it your target Stigmata I let the blood from my palms drip I've got a cold of socials in the arctic Single-handedly rip through your family Make it look like a mob hit Better stiffing if your biscuit got limp I go down head down like Fred Durst For a hot lick of this lolly pop stick Sick of s**ers thinking they can rock it Hip hop rip offs over a good tall lick That little b**h'll slit her wrist With this good tar pick I stick to my convictions That don't make me a convict I compliment only those who deserve the props, prick Never tried the chronic, chocolate tired tonic Not your normal human a**uming a bionic About to blow up, listen to my inner time-bomb tick