Ground Zero (feat. Scrblz & Wereskin)

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Angry Hippies

3:07

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Sitting pretty; up on this perpetual pedestal
I come in to the booth; and proceed to just level dudes
Magneto flow: I'll show you what this metal do
I'm out the box - I'm the pot - turn the kettle blue
Chilling at the top of black pyramid; acid
With pad and pen - more tracks than heroin addicts
I'm far from passive: I'm a terrorist passin'
By houses and flying planes in stomachs of buildings, antacids
We need less of these children who rap and
A little more lyricism... And some DJs with backspin
Concealing the steel until I'm reaching and grasping
Deleting people, zipping body bags, and clapping caskets
Leavin' people with more holes than wicker chairs and some baskets
Applying pressure... 'Til I'm breaking the gaskets
Get back to the task at hand, and start stacking the cash in
Open my third eye! Then leave the past in the trash tin
I'm the future - these rappers stuck in the past tense
Prosecute you...While I'm slumped in the back, bent
A Super Mutant! Devour powers that's past Kent
Don't play me, boy, album sales'll barely amass lint
Imprint etch and sketch until its darker than glass tint
Platinum plaques... Stuck in a trap in my attic
Kicks and claps stay on repeat; turn my mind into match sticks
Get off the computer - dudes copy paste - I detach shit
I'ont mess with idle distractions
I came into my own and Midas etch on his pad since
Itis, you catch it; no matter how you defend it, new heights from the addict
I didn't quit the hype to be whack, shiiiyyiit
We'll kill yo' hype wit' my trash bin
And I'll Be Christ With The Passion
And then I'll rise from thee ashes
I learned to walk and seismographs been inaccurate since
Tip it off of the axis - y'all are just adlibs
I deliver Maxim chemicals sonically bound in phat riffs
Smoke it down to the black lip!; I'm this hound powerin' out a bag of skin
God hadda have been like (indescribable mirth) "That'll fit!" Been
Doin' this for years: it's time that they hear it
Sublime to the spirit; you feel a climax of lyrics
Bukkake dump on some weirdos, and then we out by appearance
To another hearable home to make them some sounds that we sneer at
Pound this veneer back! If this is just a surface
Those with doubt and fear that they whack shouldn't enter the circle
Energy superlative tattoo imprint hypodermic calligraphy
With the words on the skin of a cerebellum; just perfect
Chef Kiss! We what it is with the wisdoms
Never iffy or sufficient; reinventive and building
Get the gist of it: we build it just to disassemble some ceilin's
We're forever lit, perpetual written in filaments

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