Bush-league Psych-out Stuff

P.O.S.

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    Auditon?
    Yeah I got this...
    Yeah I was at your show
    Yeah... No I mean no I didn't like it
    No I'm just saying I was there
    And a... Doomtree!
    You suck ha ha ha...
    Alright... Cecil Otter, P.O.S., Sims
    Dessa, whatever the fuck she calls herself
    Paper Tiger, Swedish name for a Japanese punk band
    Joe Mavin, you look like Alanis Morissette

    Sometimes I feel like a bastard surrounded by fathers
    Fasioning themselves to resemble action figures
    Passing opinions across the pasture like we asked you
    Like we have to have your last pieces gathered, like it even matters
    Like we're trying to climb this ladder a little bit faster
    Like I'd rather let the captain lead us into disaster (crash)
    Like the bladder never adapted to laughter
    Like I won't be the first rapper thats sent to your plaster casters
    And after the new dawn is gone
    My name is Sean, out on a lawn(?)
    Put my songs in these coupons
    I lost my soul and watched it drip down her futon
    I lost my gardens(?) out of a bush that sprouts snook bombs
    Now I'm looking for a word that don't exist
    To help disrout this selfish pride that I hide inside this fist
    We've arrived to loosen up this noose that keeps us lifted
    And rip these stictches while I introduce this piece of...

    Yeah stand back (stand back)
    Let me be the target, let your bullett hit, I'll handle that
    Let me see you flex aggressive ignorance, see half these cats
    Stagger like the simple common sense to put one foot before the other
    Hop, trip, slip
    Slid into home base base like you planned rehearse
    Some kind of celebration dance, you got tagged at first
    And kept running
    Jumping the gun for what you got coming
    Homie no handout's til' the pitcher hits you
    Your acting like your stitches rippin'
    I got nothing but what my crew and open folks are bumpin'
    Trustin' their trust and feeling bastard for trusting their trust
    So fuck it, everything else gets tugged under rugs
    Til' I get something like a crowd of cats mumbling my words
    Show me some heart, let me tug
    (Slug: Give me a pound or a hug)
    Hear the sound like a drug homie
    Just free-based beats, life's cheap
    If you live it right, right?
    If the words are tight, might
    Bright the head in the dark, kill the night ride(?)

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    Stand back, no piggy backing with the mad mats
    A mini apple road warrior give me that hand clap
    From the hash back to amtrack to aircraft
    Ransacked every city that the kids be at, the furgomack
    Jumping hurdles that you carried in your back pack
    The love curdles at the match books last act
    Licking the stamps back just for physical flashbacks
    The times of writing rhymes to get my cats and my plants back
    They tell me I deserve to be happy, now doesn't seem valid
    'Til we get rid of half of
    How many are doing nothing but sucking on flavours?
    I'm try'na edit the credits while their critiquing the trailers
    So I'mma rant like theres something to say
    Making up my own dance I'mma do it this way (watch me)
    And I'mma try and take it all around the world
    (While I'm out on tour keep your hand off my girl!)

    Sometimes I feel like the bastard son
    Oh where the fucks my father
    Like a shattered shoulder
    Like the chick got smashed off my class
    at the door with my shoes and my coat
    So now I'm here again, I brought the clown, we came to rock the boat
    I hold you down, you set them up
    I'll set the bar and drive around
    We'll let your style do the knocking, here's a pen go to town
    Paint it with big broad strokes, I'll study your path
    And hope your pride can take a joke when I say its dope with earcoats and laugh
    Man I'm pleased to shit the ass
    How can I add you up, devide your crew and still be horrible at math?
    Now answer that and stay fasionable (just try it)
    Go bash the bricks and stomp them ? kid the princess still ain't at this castle
    Mr Of Course, the youngster hoarse from screaming on him
    But shit, I toss the lozange quick and drop my fullbacks(?) on him
    Turning teens into fiends from the beats to the bear hugs
    I got the stuff to get some buying up the ear plugs

    (Close up your ears... Close up your whole face...
    This will melt your brain... Oozing
    Oooo no... I wouldn't go outside looking like that... Ohhh dear...)

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