Jean Grae - *****ery Level 3000 Lyrics
[Verse 1]Dr. Manhattan, tatted atom circa tabaca-ing goerCircle tobacco ring blowerI'll murk you black. Get sewn upMy work is blackI got diplomas in the backThat are bursting over the sack that I hold em inCause its folder was folding overI know what they been told yaBut since I'm going in again, it's like drop and bend overOver and over, with no lubeGet that veteran in embedded in yo stoolsYokels, localsSlow cruise to yo demise, know it in the vocalsI got no couth, no lies; I'm dedicated, focusedOpposite of Bette Davis oculars, waiting for the apocalypseStrapped with a cape in case I get popular, so I can drop it, *****The clock ticks. Y'all concerned with crotch sticksI'm concerned with moxie, Take your Oxycontin, and your rocksI'm The Great Gatsby initials, the Casebasket epistleThe last greatest apostle, the baddest damieThe combination of Gladys Knight and Pips in one placeAnd a Robert Blake fanI'll keep you in a basementWhile chained to a day bedWith the door blocked with a MaytagAnd at four o'clock I'll let snakes inAnd stand in the door sipping a tall boyCoors light and giggle in your face thenSociopath, with a golden flaskAnd I'll fill with it gasoline to throw at yo assAnd then fill it up back again with some of your piecesYour liver, your back, your face a bit of your penisDouble hands with a WBetter do whatever you can to cover youJean Lang came to clubber youPain, whatcha gonna do[Verse 2]*****ery level 3000, in jeans and a green blouseWith a crimson stain from a beat downAt a business meeting in a tea loungeLike "nah I'm cool, please sit downProceed" bleeding outThe whole team freaking out, text-ing each other under the tableI'm office space calm, I offer face palmsComma face balm for after on my dot com; I'm basically batshitYou basic bastard I never pace itI crave action, I transform like I'll save y'allBut then I stay RatchetI'll bash your face in the baseboards of a burning buildingWith the passion of a pastor passing plates and getting back millionsDash in a race and abandon smashing the tape at the last secondThen beckon to children on the sidelines who'd all step in and start blastingBach, Sebastian, or Rachmaninoff or Handel playingWhen I'm candle lighting and man handling I'm saying, I'm classyDokken and Sebastian Bach blaringWhen I'm mass murdering turned to decibelsCertain to drown the tears, it's nastyOn the Pulaski bridge, trunk full up with the shotgun, shotgunTongue dripping with vodka, dripping on my lap on a map of AlaskaIn October, in a black dress and blasting Frank ZappaThe consummate top assassinThe consulate tracking afterAnd flipping the birds to diplomats out the whipWith an Andy Richter mask onCause I passed on getting a sidekickCause everybody ain't ready to die for thisI'll drive on dialysis, I'll drive over your dialysisAnd keep in mind that I don't even drive; I like challengesRoseannadanna fan, fan of Dan from Roseanne but not a fan of ProzacAnd I don't care how you find themWanna know what I'm like, fine thenI'll like fine men, smart men, where the ***** do you find themNo, seriously, I'm actually asking you where can find themI'm into crime and environments that you cry inI don't imply it, I vividly give you my endYou'll think I'm lying 'til shivering in a lion's denIn an abandoned zoo ***** covered with flies andStrapped to Kobe beef steaksYa don't believe me, for Pete's sakeMan, what the ***** do I have do to convince youI'm the Freeway villainKiefer SutherlandI love when people sufferingIt feels like I'm on reefer when they're blubberingI'm seriousI'm FCC's damn problem, andAt best Tsidi's man problemsI guess could be the one thing I wanna work onI'm glad that we're getting this work doneGuess i would have never thought to talk, but who knewGetting this out could be coolWe should totally do this next weekYou're good youYou look testy
