on top of the world, yet i ain't never left my head, no turn to look back
every seventh page is an anthem for a different mood.
in a perfect world i set the perfect mood.
in this perverted abode i claim rogue in plain clothes,
and sing songs of utter depression, love, chemical imbalance, sheer paranoia.
my science is fiction, i kick space raps for the down to earth heads,
the kids that get dubs are the only ones that want to listen.
my words are my world, believe it or not they mean a lot to some.
can't say that i'm ahead of my time, i fear that my time wll never come.
can't exist outside the bottle or crack under pressure,
no one questions how we got here and if we don't things won't get any better.
lesser demigod, foreign object, stuffed animal animating
in a still life digital labrea tarpit,
walking in circles is my red carpet.
these are distress signals spanning you and i
in verses, so if anyone hears i'm the sole survivor of a dying civilization.
a galaxy called integrity, in the belt of creativity.
but it's now a black dwarf snuffed by cold world.
i keep warm by burning dead bodies.
smell of defeat's sun never sets,
it's all ours, we can walk the streets until the buildings no longer remain.
my people are my people karma's an ally the line's been drawn,
this is my gold tank, everywhere i go i don't belong.
unknown by most, hated by many, adored by the rest,
beliefs are shed skin...i'm so east, well why did i end up on the west?
don't want to sacrifice my cadence and sentence structure design by rhymes, etc.
anticon...hip hop music for the advancement of mankind.
more than an egomaniacal, sarcastic label for a movement.
the wind of change still smells like a million corpses in kerosine marching
to burn down the walls and the village and storm the castle,
round up the damsels take 'em to the river, now we can spawn.
this ain't premillenium tension, it's the result of too much free time,
on dusty fingers and it'll be a wonderful ride.
a million bleeding hearts composing prose in blood to live and die a thousand times.

ever been to hell? this is a black and white photo album,
outlined in infrared the infrastructure is dead.
instructors fled the scene of the massacre asking for forgiveness no begging.
no leg and only body everybody's dummies in the alleyway,
sole casts the rolling luck watch my breath and outline my words in white chalk.
gawking at reflections, walking in missed directions catching bad ones.
this isn't spoken word, it's the reinvention of sugarhill.
right now your girl is transfixed upon my scripts, and this is sole
we're making love right now, so i don't need to take her to the hotel.
this is a love song, i'd pass out roses but the thorns sear my flesh,
i'm like there are no groupies, i'm a mammal my whole life is a freestyle set.
stars only exist in the sky so nothing gets to my head,
the universe is my a&r by the time i fall off i'll probably be dead.
it's been a long time since the mountain pine trees and shoveling snow,
now my closest peers are the greatest talent i'll ever know.
music's gotten impersonal, hip hop persona's gotten vain,
so mcs i ain't feeling you if i don't know your real name.
hip hop ain't dead, the industry isn't wack, indy hip hop is a demo fair.
keep your sights set, what you wanna move rats, minds, or posteriors?
i'm still a fan, corporate insider and rainmaker.
it's springtime, where are the centaurs and people in grass skirts?
this is the verge, the melting point, where your favorite mcs can't be lazy anymore.
the psychopath this is psyche rap, with violins, violence,
my life stranded on an island with no food but beautiful women
feeding my ego, or what little is left.
no, this is gangsta rap and my shirt's unbuttoned,
stealing moments of brilliance, even the lime lights,
chopping up keys to break the floodgate.
maybe this is instramnetal hip hop and i don't know when to shut up,
well maybe this is turntable music, scratch they i's and i'll scratch yours.
what if this is honest music and i mean every other word i say?
don't take anything literal or out of context just take it for what it is.
if you want labels we can divide, i'll still be strong,
bottom line it's all art, this is a good and a bad song.