Lyrics:
and flag naps
In the fuze
I build myself up
From a language called real time
With physical flakes and molecules
Information machines
Closing
(Well, since they first tried contact with
us by radio, we've developed a language computer
A machine that breaks down any language to our own)
Ok,
A machine that
Breaks down any language
To our own
Nobody alive
Has been good enough
To beat me yet
Well since they first
Er, tried contact with us
By radio
firmware
Inhibit, inhibit, overflow
Yes. Hardwired logic. Machine language
Connection deprived by request, request
Parallel operation
Give me push count
invasion
My dough inflated and I'm more creative
Signed to cover big deals, but it's no parading
See it's a couple niggas every generation
I wasn't
L. Ron Hoover:
Welcome to the First Church of Appliantology! The WHITE ZONE is for loading and unloading only!
Don't you be Tarot-fied
It's just
And learned to see a different picture with the same eyes
To be free and defy the regime
Understand the mechanics behind the machine
Till they become conscious
I'm the son of an immigrant, I'm the first generation
Ain't shit going to stop me from being who I want to be
I said it once, I'll say it again
That
into my midnight slumbers.
When you're lying awake with a dismal headache and
Repose is taboo'd by anxiety,
I conceive you may use any language you
[Verse 3]
Born between cultures, living in between
First cry was a protest, know what I mean?
They can't decode our transmissions
'Cause our language is
Come and save our soul,
We know not what we do,
Raised by a machine,
Our eyes are blood red.
VERSE 1:
Leading generation,
Captivated by a new
Remedy
Recipe
Words first
Positive energy
Step
Word
Imagination see what it turn into
Good results
You will need some sun for that hat
Rdt
From the top we
a Buddhist
Reviewing all the best to do it
So let's do this ("Do it")
Nothing to it
Considered the first emcee to blow the spot
And do work was Coke La
The ocean hums like a tired machine
Salt stinging the wounds we never learned to heal
Are we counting the days left on the clock
Or just pretending
much left to what was real
But these days I'll never bet my hand on the first thing you feel.
Eight generations passed on one last curse
One last
Baby I got you on my answering machine on replay
This is getting difficult in my say
Stutter's on my mind when you approach me
With soft
Stealing our lands erasing our language
Rampage bringing death and ravage
All that is ours yeah they savage
Never believed my generation is damaged
Glenn
This language is visual
Language of our blood speaks levels
Without any words handed down
By our forefathers to give us a glimpse
Of who we really
on foreign shores
Can't speak the language of this promised land
Just like daddy, can't feel my hands
[Verse 2]
Mama's lullaby twisted in machine guns sound
very different languages
Hey
I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here!
But that's okay
I feel alone for the first time!
And I'm like hey
I don't know
He was flying first class, straight to Japan (uh-huh)
Said he wanna, "Take me real higher"
But I know he really only want my vagina
Swipe, swipe,
out
Take our languages, our culture, our traditions, our future
We're still here, and guess what?
We're waking up
We the seventh generation
Or the forming of one religion?
I wonder what came first
Dinosaurs or Darwinism?
Pledging allegiance to a flag
Since elementary
Writing curses in cursive
'cause you can't do that
Think about it, playing Russian roulette with an automatic
I bet my ass against the line the last bullet's first on line
Stab
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