it in like doctors with awkwardness Mopped your whole flock up, and walked toward ya Scattered all up on the chalkboard, Socrates self is thoughtless From farmers
farmer planting in his field And known that what he sows, is there for me to steal I take what I need, never more, never more In the art of survival
in Hygiene. [Billy Flynn] Perfect, you wanted to be a nun. [Roxie Hart] A nun? [Billy Flynn] When were you born? [Roxie Hart] On a chicken farm outside
no great art, gettin' the heart of a man On a silver platter A little brains-a little talent With the emphasis on the latter! I made mince-meat out of a sweet young farmer
Yet we can't even feed ourselves Our real test of strength is caring Not the war toys we sell the world Just carry on, thankful to be farmed like worms
one time Yeah Biggin up the other side things here y'all The visual, not your video (check it out) I'm livin in the city, inner city not a farm Steady
Where the farmers used to live Earth was flying through the sky It had nothing left to give Tractors were burning On the Whitehouse lawn Just woke up one morning And the farmers
Put it in like doctors with awkwardness Mopped your whole flock up And walked toward ya Scattered all up on the chalkboard Socrates self is thoughtless From farmers
me a glimpse Let me come in Be there inside her Here it begins Here is the sin Something to lie about You think you're smart I think you're art We agree
beans and rice, shit up a storm I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone My bracelet like I raised it off the farm
neva qet cauqht. and I could qive her brain back because I'm so smart. Fuck wiit my bitch and I'm a draw like picaso art. Yeah. ii spiit at u like a
canvas maybe black and white with shades of gray pen and ink or watercolors, evn photographs or a piece of sculpture made from stone or clay chorus: art
we can't even feed ourselves Our real test of strength is caring Not the toys of war we sell the world Just carry on, thankful to be farmed like worms
horn and celebrate like Kunta was born we elbowed our way inside loud and got on I played the building, burn a branch and get filled in Like Pilgrims G-in' Pepridge farms
you've seen a ghost.) [Verse 1:] Most copious Rain soak the opiates Notice how the phobias appropriately procreate Woke up with a ghost farm focused
lost, baby, the future is so bright (Kill... television! Kill... television! Kill... television!) (Difficult... isn't it?) [Verse 2:] Nothing says "charm" like an armored car Taking the clone-farm
Raggin a bag of lonely poem remnants Short of breath like you're short of fresh You're a portable mess Carpetbagger spearheading tear peddeling pretentious art
Performing alien brain scans and spiritual exams While the mother ship lands on holy land My mental expands with plans to span through the galaxy I land in farmers