Lyrics:
Proud headed Queen Lizzie
Conducts little charges
That don't get charged back
Well the technical manual's busy
She's not going to fix it up too easy
They say anything is possible
And life's just another obstacle
Well show me the manual
And the man responsible
I went lookin' for answers in
apart from me
Yeah, and lately I do bitches the meanest
Tell 'em I love 'em and don't ever mean it, we go on dates
I send the Maybach out in
a manual
Step by step booklet for you to keep
Your man in place
And out the next girls' face
Rule number 1
Never give a dude money
Girl don't be
kids have all backed down and they put you first in line.
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are --
And take your place in a wiser world
metal Gods
From a casting line
From a factory in Mumbai
Some manual labourer's bread and butter
And a single-minded lie
Small metal Gods
Cheap
Welcome to a world
Of eternal shame
Where everything you do is judged by a stupid
(fuck-up)
and you're expecting a reason why
But get in line
Holy dogs in the temple of broken glass
Mississippi death threat, mississippi dead flesh
Dressed out like a deer in a wedding dress
On my house,
on a mission
He's the redneck Picasso of
The manual transmission
And the only man in town who can make
Charlie Vincent's van go
When the sun goes down
a place in space unchaseable
No mortal can't fulfill such skill they incapable
Of keeping all the planets in-line with one mind
Make the sun and moon both
homegrown tomatoes ripe on the vine
Gently takes your hand then drags you over the line
She's a fast girl you can see it in her face
In the way she moves
I'm a crazy maniac without a mission
Octane fuel driven manual transmission
Don't give a fuck if I live or die
I'm on a motor driven suicide
Drop
and they put you first in line
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are
And you take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars
And you
around them hundreds, you know how much that is (tens)
Too much to give me cash, they had to wire me the back end (send it)
Niggas in here lookin' tough,
let em breathe
They know we up next
We ain't playing chess
Keep in check but this not a game
Don't you forget, uh
Put it all together no manual
All
the
World turns on a pecking order
Oriented to the floor who best can
Navigate to working up the ladder?
If you knew a thing you'd saddle up
And get in line
a kid with pimples and a guy in a wheelchair,
so i knew i had to act fast
So many questions in my mind
What would be a good pick-up line?
Why had a hot
body is controlled
Pretending she's in love
Looking to the sky the star is dying in the north
We're running out of time
She wants to cross the line
in Los Angeles
That handled this the way the manual suggests (the way the manual suggests)
She turned me on to music that I never heard before
She told
of units
But ain't no threats, don't stress me dog
You gotta let me hear something to impress me dog
When I spit I put rappers in line, then smack 'em
they ankles in shambles
I can't expect them to be grateful and thankful
They thought I had a manual like Hansel
Leave your plans in man's hands and it
threats, don't stress me dog
You gotta let me hear somethin' to impress me dog
When I spit I put rappers in line, then smack 'em around
I got 'em all
Follow fashion, follow trend.
Get the label, trade-mark sign -
Get the stand in Mainstream Line!
Vogue's your own mind. Vogue's what makes you blind.
Under your command
All the lines are blurred
And in your defense
The balance is unheard
Speak your mind
Eat a can of worms
Don’t question time
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