Lyrics:
outta here
Yeah, yeah, yeah
This might be harder than I thought
If you're come in from the street
With dirty shoes on your feet
That's a technical
A nine digit number
For every living soul
That is all they talk about
At Data Control
They know everything about you
Keeping secrets is too hard
with me?
Coming at me on some Jay-Z shit
Who you with?
Calling my cell, leaving crazy voicemails
Figured you can get me if you called my girl, Nikki
So close
So close
Motion trigger, technical control
Motion trigger, technical control
My motion trigger has found you again
You're an alien, alien
Huston, Stevie Will, Ryan Sheck'
Papa got the TEC, it can get technical
Pimp shit, never, put the pussy on a pedestal
Niggas out of shape
I'm just bein'
cell
Born with no soul, lack of control
Cut from the mold of the anti-social
Plug them in and turn them on
Process the data, make yourself the bomb
ANATOMY IN SURGERY
Interdigitation between cells
In epithelial tissue
Purulent infection
Technical words
Anatomy
Surgery
Symptoms of infection
Try
I thought as a child
I'd feel like an eagle
Rain on the windscreen
I'm captured in technical solitude
[Chorus]
Fly, the higher I am
Not a letter or a call
This room has been my prison cell
I know every crack on every wall
My locked-up desires boiling
Tensions rising to a flood
Church windows broken
That place ain't been used in years
Jail don't have a sheriff or a cell
And electric trains they run by maybe once or twice
Wear the grudge like a crown of negativity
Calculate what we will or will not tolerate
Desperate to control all and everything
Unable to forgive
will become host cell host cell will become virus
Hiv DNA took control of all cell
It starts to replicate it self now host cell is building
Hiv does
deciphered through and through
Single cell analysis showing what's true
Here's to the power of one not just the whole
Single cell insights helping us control
Guess who's goin' to jail tonight?
God gon' post my bail tonight
God in my cells, that's my celly
Made in the image of God, that's a selfie
Pray
Galvanized steel, sheet in oil
Believe in a punch line in orders to improve
Live in a nation, a shallow formation
Technical adjustments in orders
Send "Bingo" Ringtone to your Cell
(This train is destined for all stations to High Barnet. Thank you.)
(Mind the gap)
(Like a moth to the flame)
be two targets, control
Ah, NAS and AZ
I think this is what we've been waitin' for
Are they on a hard wire or cell phone?
Ah, both are on cell
a sound, still no reason to doubt
Quality what I sell, quantity in the cells
Quantum physics myself, count a million atoms of cells
This life I'm living
ever mined
Just a mirage from deep inside of my head
Code and wire fed
My Turing Girl
It's technical voodoo
My Turing Girl
I'm under her spell
My
a thousand
But she's barely sweet sixten
She re-arranged my brain-cells
And took control of me
So if I miss my plain to jacksonville
You can guess where
My mother my sisters eyes
My seniors and their prying
My freedom my prison cell
My tempting to destroy
My fantasies my lost control
My confusion
My mother my sister's eyes
My seniors and their prying
My freedom my prison cell
My tempting to destroy
My fantasies my lost control
My confusion
Mechanized man a deadly threat
March to the future with no regret
Technical advancement what we achieve
Give us a cause something to believe
Under
to make my pockets swell/ Tim died while I rotted in a prison cell/ never got to see my vision I/ never got hear the sound/ lord I pray he hear me now/ he
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