Lyrics:
The fence is too high to jump in jail
Too low to dig, I might just touch hell, hot
Get a life, now they on sale
Then I might cast you a spell
Look at what
The fence is too high to jump in jail
Too low to dig, I might just touch hell, hot
Get a life, now they on sale
Then I might cast you a spell
Look at what
The fence is too high to jump in jail
Too low to dig, I might just touch hell, hot
Get a life, now they on sale
Then I might cast you a spell
Look at what
on the way by the name of Bamboo
Got a little baby girl, four year, Jordan
Never turn my back on my kids for them
Should have hit it, quit it, rag
, a planet shaking gasp, bacteria that lives outside
The storm-cloud of your breath
These rags can't cover up your ribcage
And these rags, an insurgency
Yea, I grew up like the rag of the dark, so what?
Soldier, proud about it, that's just what I gotta do
Yea, I grew up like the rag of the dark, so
They mad that I'm winnin'
Close my eyes
And I'm seeing demons
I got blood on my hand
Can't stop the bleedin'
Yeah I went from rags
From rags to riches
the wheel we'll hold it tight
The top's thrown down even at night
Heaven help us without a care we're almost there
Rag tag flag
It's held up high
Rag tag
un up
Tun up, tun un un up
Tun up, tun un un up
Tun up, tun un un up
Tun up, tun un un up
Tun up, tun un un up
Everybody lemme see yuh
Hand
exploited.
Peoples' pride and dignity is burnt in Napalm
And hand-held flame-throwers.
The poor and underprivileged are raped and tormented
By leaders who
stay the night
Brick by brick this house ain’t happen over night
Had reach my hand out had to put aside the pride
How we over came the struggle and we
pennies, count them ten
Grab those pennies, count them ten
Hand of God, never come back up again
Let the river cast its spell
On me
(Hand of God, hand
inner
Last to first and first be last
So who's the real winner
Rags to riches
Riches to rags
Rich man sad
Poor man mind expands
The universe in your hands
those swollen pigs
Stand up to those who told us lies
And led us blind to our demise
So here we stand with an empty hand
Our feet are sore, our backs
Cast by the only son of rags
who would wrap you up in all the finest tatters
But he wanted nothing more, my loved one,
than to wrap you up in JOY
But it
The Cast (in order of appearance [roughly]):
KING ARTHUR : Graham Chapman
PATSY : Terry Gilliam
GUARD #1 : Michael Palin
GUARD #2 : John Cleese
attack
Just a dream with no end in sight
Waking up to evening
Now it seems I live this rotten life
Spoiled rotten life, frozen hair with burning hands
neck in a cast (whoa)
Yes, i"m the man with the skills to talk shit
And i'm back by the crew that none of y'all can get with
So back to the lab to fix
written in the cursive
Immersive, I don't think I scratched the surface, I'm urgent
Not a saint but screwed up by a missed call
Voice leave the track
it
He going home and then he rap about it
Now they gone bump it all up in the party
I got my boys, I'm not sippin' Bacardi
I'm in a Limo rolled up by
Cast by the only son of rags
who would wrap you up in all the finest tatters
But he wanted nothing more, my loved one,
than to wrap you up in JOY
panel
From the PGA would stand and just
Throw up they hands like "fuck it"
Then stand before me and hand me
An honorary Stanley cup
Now in this minute
And I've got less
Still Counting coins
As I feel stress
Cops pull up
And you'll confess
Like a stuck record on reset
Plagued by thoughts
Of my own Death
of rage
We flood fire
Outwear gear worn indoor (Murda)
Willingly hands floor
Wood plowin' a few more doors
Fingers don't slow by the whole
Roll, run it by
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