You know what I mean? You can put a label on a life. Put a label on a lifestyle. You know? Put a label on how you wake up every morning and go to bed at night. I've been digging in the crates ever since I was living in space. Before the rat race. Before monkeys had human traits. I mastered numerology and Big Bang Theology. Performed lobotomies with telekinetic psychology. Invented the mic so I could start blessing it. Chin checking kids to make my point like an impressionist. Many men have tried to shake us, but I twist my core to make it work. I've been digging in the crates ever since I was living in space. Before the rat race. Before monkeys had human traits. I mastered numerology and Big Bang Theology. Performed lobotomies with telekinetic psychology. Invented the mic so I could start blessing it. Chin checking kids to make my point like an impressionist. Many men have tried to shake us, but I twist my core to double helixes and show them what I'm made of. I buckle knees like leg braces, cast a spell of instrumental-ness on all of UMCs who hate us. So you can try on. Leave you without a shoulder to cry on. From now to infinity, let icons be bygones. I firebomb. Ghostly notes haunt this. I tried threats, but moved on to a promise. I stomped my feet. I've been digging in the crates ever since I was living in space. Before the rat race. Before monkeys had human traits. I'm just a simulation. I'm a simple man. I'm s***** with or without an accomplice and run the gauntlet with whoever that wants this. I'm voltage. The unforgettable sound. I'm voltage. Bringing you up and taking you down. I'm voltage. Coming at you from every side. I'm voltage. Making the rhythm of rhyme collide. I can't run. I put a kick in the back bones or clothes with microphones. Never satisfy my Rhyme Jones. Spraying bright day over what you might say. My blood type's Krylon. Technicolor type-A. I turn to blood towards mountains or around town. Surround sounds. Devouring the scene. Subliminal gang. Green paintings all over all the same thing. Sing songs karaoke. Copy bulls**t. Break bones verbally with sticks and stone tactics. Fourth dimension. Comeback convention. Write rhymes at ease while the track stands in attention. I'm the rhyme missile. Why you risk your all? I pick out all your flaws. Spinning raw. Blah, blah, blah. You could say you saw. Voting. The unforgettable sound. Voting. Bringing you up and taking you down. Voting. Coming at you from every side. Voting. Making the rhythm of rhyme collide. Voting. The unforgettable sound. Voting. Bringing you up and taking you down. Voting. Coming at you from every side. Voting. Making the rhythm of rhyme collide. And like the rock and rap. You know what I mean? People act like, you know, wow. That's a new invention. That s**t ain't new. We're constantly evolving. It is constantly changing. That's all about change. Everybody's always trying to put a label on s**t. There ain't no label for this s**t. They always have to try to put a label on it. Try to create something so they can water it down. Sometimes I feel like a prophet. Misunderstood under the gun. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I can't go on. I don't know who they are but I do know I'm going to die. I don't know who they are but I do know I'm going to die. Yeah. Well I really wish the inside would pin them down. I really wish the insides would pin them down.