Ball dangling thick,
gone to the right road, streets are sick.
The 18 mill, it might grind slow,
hey, but it grinds fine.
Indian rope man, why looking on?
Tell common clay, he's heavily bound.
Retired layman,
looks on in scorn,
with a transplanted heart.
Kills him quick, he has to part.
Indian rope man,
sees the time,
spinning loose the edge of mind.
Catching losers in his line, in his line.
Indian rope man,
flexes his eye,
dissolving the fog,
revealing a lie.
Indian rope man, pulls my trick,
in his heart.
Indian rope man,
he's on stride,
tearing down eternal life.
Yeah, when his soul transcends his heart,
kiss him.
He has to part,
he has to part, he has to part.
You're going to kiss him.
Yeah, when his soul transcends his heart, whoa,
kiss him.