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Ministry of the Torture Couch (feat. Hemlock Ernst)


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[Intro: Busdriver]
I just really wanted to be included in the conversation
My nigga, let me give you my thoughts on the matter

[Verse 1]
My introduction to the party was "Who be that?"
With small talk littering conversation with booby traps
Chewing fat with political theorists busy reviewing stats
They're going home to niggas committing unruly acts
But not getting fitted for no Uzi straps
Just keeping the hoodie mac and the doobie wrapped
And never reflecting how we truly act
They're screaming out that shit until the motherfucking tubing cracks
Cause it feels like a lacking military coup in fact
But had to bring Paul Mooney back to give y'all the point of view
Of a threatening black man, cause these legislators get paid for the
Booty claps so we had to bring the coofie back

[Hook x2]
So take a breath, take a step, take a leap
I'ma take these motherfuckers straight up out their seats
Reach for the sun, I shoot from the hip with teeth in my gun

Remember when we were radicals out there fanning them flames
Rooting out injustices in our family names
Cops measuring our grave plots in candy canes

[Verse 2: Hemlock Ernst]
I motion to leave the party early
But held down by my sleeves, it's like a mild birthing
Pushing past the ledge to know I'm not free
Wonder if they'll remember me?
As something more than a centerpiece
Or a choir boy for the simile
For the four-fours, for the entropy
Like the chorus was always a friend to me
In migrant visions though -- my mind was a cash box
Followed behind grandpa in black socks, wild at heart
He smoking KOOLS, 'til the day of the locust -- moved
Him barely unfocused -- blue, but when I concentrate I'm scary with truths
Half-remembered from my ones and twos and force of my past lives
A pastor in knife fights, a bastard, a light brite
I'm just babbling but what I found is our self-worth has been rooked
The truth we pull from our subconscious?
Just won't read it in books


[Interlude: Busdriver]
Don't you remember?
Remember us
Let me tell you about it
Remember when we were radicals out there fanning them flames
With a mouth full of reading and a tummy full of grain?
Don't you remember?
I was there with you
It was different then
We sung the old folklore, we sung the Goodlife hymns
My nigga said this one, and I repeated it. It goes:

[Hook 2]
Fuck a cop, fuck a cop
He's ready to drop a cop
Fuck a cop, fuck a cop
I'm ready to drop a cop, he says
Fuck a cop, fuck a cop
I'm ready to drop a cop
He's ready to do what you're to but he's
Ready to drop a cop

[Verse 3]
I wasn't ready to do it, I was studying music to make y'all pop your top
So I'm steady improving I calibrated every step of my awkward walk
I’m off of the coverage I’m combing the undertow, “where are ya wonder crops”
I'm celebrating all the over-medicated veterans indefinitely to have a better understanding
Of General Lee, and how he felt about the universe and generally
The same sentiment of bus unions, make havoc viewing blacks as sub-humans
We don't get down like that, the criminal intent of how I act
Got me discussing paramilitary tactics with a leftist weirdo on the census bureau
The crackling kinetic energy around them French braids come from the planet's furnace re-purposed
For the hustle's various inertias I put the workers in burkas
For the political Whirling Dervish
My nigga free jazz's finances have overloaded them circuits
It's tedious selling them inebriates for the CIA achievement list
The edited gagged that failed Confederate flag draped over the petri dish
I remember when I was oblivious, a tight wad with an iPod
But then I got pulled over by them cops and got rolled up by the vice squad so I'm like
Fuck a cop, fuck a cop
I'm ready to drop a cop
Fuck a cop, fuck a cop
I'm ready to drop a cop, like he said
Fuck a cop, fuck a cop
We ready to drop them cops
Down a few levels off our importance in society, nigga

Los Angeles
Nigga I'm floating in the sky above everyone, yeah
Fuck a cop, fuck a cop
I'm ready to drop a cop
Fuck a cop, fuck a cop
I'm ready to drop a cop
Off the elemental table
Disable all of them motherfuckers and hook them niggas up with a USB cable
Right in they navel
Fuck a cop, fuck a cop

Let me show you with teeth in my gun
Let me show you with grief in my puns

We were different then
More in touch with each other
We spoke more often
We were more likely to go back home

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